


Everybody's Watching Me

by VeronicaFerCard



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Modeling, Protective Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 04:03:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6595888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeronicaFerCard/pseuds/VeronicaFerCard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve was fourteen years old he was sure he was going to spend the rest of his life with Bucky. When Steve was fifteen Bucky was taken away from him and Steve thought he would never see him again. <br/>So, when ten years later, Steve is hired by fashion magazine SHIELD to do a series of paintings starting a male model, it’s safe to say that he was more than a little surprised when said model turned out to be James… Winter?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There were times Steve was sure the universe hated him.  He was born premature and almost died a couple of times before his mother even brought him home. And even then, Steve had a list of illnesses taller than him, which, to be honest, wouldn’t be that hard since Steve was a shrimp.  At the age of fourteen he looked like he was ten.

Puberty had yet to knock on his door.

Steve looked up at Bucky, leaning on the tree in front of him. Bucky was only a year older and he already had to learn how to shave. Bucky was twice Steve’s, well, everything. He was popular, handsome and pretty much all the girls from school were in love with him.

So it was a bit of a shock when he grabbed Steve’s hand after class and brought him to the park a few blocks away from their block.

Oh, yeah. Bucky was also Steve’s neighbor, and sometimes Steve suspected that was the only reason they had become friend ten years ago, when he and his mom moved to a small apartment in the building across from Bucky’s house.

Bucky had been steeling funny glances at Steve all week, and whenever Steve tried to ask what was going on, Bucky would change the topic and Steve ended up forgetting what he had asked in the first place.

Today Bucky had been there after Steve’s last class, which it wasn’t all that uncommon seeing that trouble seemed to always find Steve at that time of day, and Bucky had said he didn’t like to find Steve with a black eye every time he came around after dinner. Steve thought he was overprotective, and sometimes it did get in his nerves that Bucky thought Steve wasn’t able to protect himself, but he also liked walking home with Bucky by his side.

Steve liked having Bucky by his side all the time.

He had never had a close friend before Bucky. Steve had spent too much time in hospitals, most of his friends were the nurses that treated him… or the other nurses that worked with his mom. He became really good at talking to older people. Not so much with people his own age, though.

So today Bucky was there at the end of the class, he didn’t say a word as he grabbed Steve hand and almost dragged him along the way they used to take to get home.

Steve was too busy trying not to trip over his feet as he struggled to meet up Bucky’s quick steps that he didn’t even question why Bucky was in such a hurry.  

And then Bucky just stopped, right in front of the park. And Steve almost crashed into him.

“Let’s go in here,” Bucky suggested. But really, it wasn’t much of a suggestion when he was pulling Steve along with him as he spoke.

“What the hell are you doing?” Steve asked when they finally stopped in front of a huge old tree in the middle of the park. There weren’t that many people milling around at that time of day, it was a pretty nice change from the crowded school, it made Steve breathe a little easier.

Bucky leaned against the tree. Now that Steve could study his face he saw that Bucky looked a little nervous, he kept running his hand over his hair, making in greasier. His mom would scold at him when he get home, Steve just knew it. Mrs. Barnes was always on about _Bucky and his blessed hair._

Bucky’s other hand hadn’t let go of Steve and he used it to bring Steve closer to him. Steve went willingly, still waiting on an answer to what was going on.

“Please don’t hate me,” Bucky pleaded in a whisper.

“Why, woul –” The rest of Steve’s question got lost in the way when Bucky tugged him over the rest of the way and crashed his mouth to Steve’s.

Steve was completely frozen, he held onto Bucky’s shoulder to steady himself and he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the blood rushing through his ears. He hadn’t even closed his eyes; he was too stunned to do anything.

Bucky kissed him.  His best friend. Bucky. His best friend gave Steve his first kiss.

“Please don’t hate me,” Bucky asked again in an even smaller voice. Steve hadn’t even notice that Bucky had put some distance between them, holding Steve at arm’s length.

He was staring at Steve with wide eyes and for a moment Steve was sure Bucky was going to start crying. Steve had never seen Bucky cry. The idea of it scared him.

Two deep breaths later and Steve finally found his voice. “Yo-you like me?” God! He sounded like such a looser. Suddenly Steve felt like crying as well.

Bucky nodded slowly, looking scared and smaller than Steve had ever seen him.  “Do you hate me?” he asked yet again.

Steve just couldn’t bare the look on his face. Besides his mom, Bucky was the safest thing in his life. Lately he had been ever more present than her, because she had to take so many extra shifts at the hospital to pay for rent. The thought that Steve would ever hate Bucky?

Steve wasn’t ready to admit that he had thought about this, about Bucky touching him in ways different than just friendship. But he never thought… Bucky would never…

Bucky had kissed him.

Steve kissed him back.

\---

Steve was sure he was going to spend the rest of his life with Bucky. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew he never wanted to be away from Bucky Barnes another day in his life.

A year later and a flaw in the brake pedal of a car kill Bucky’s entire family.

The social workers were there to take Bucky with them at the end of the service.

Yes, the universe did hate Steve Rogers.

\---

James was seventeen and he hated the world and everyone in it.

His mother, his father, his annoying little sister, they were all gone. He would never see Steve again, even if Steve knew where he was. He would never want Steve to see what he had become.

No one called him Bucky anymore.

No one cared about his name.

People just wanted to watch him, they liked seeing him move and twist his body for a few bucks. He was disgusted of every single one of them, not as much as he was disgusted with himself, though.  He hated what he had to do, and hated even more that he was apparently good at it.

He wanted to be good at anything other than dancing around for disgusting old pervs who got off on him shaking his body in a poor lightened stage. There had been a time in his life that James had thought he had been meant for something great.

He left those dreams behind when he decided he wouldn’t be another number for the state. James could take care of himself. They had put him in a house with more kids than beds.

Bucky used to have a bedroom of his own.

Bucky died with the rest of his family in a car crash.

James could take care of himself. He didn’t need anyone’s charity. But, god! For a time he had been tempted. To go back to Brooklyn, to ask if he could stay with Steve.

But even as the thought crossed his mind Bucky knew he couldn’t do that. Mrs. Rogers barely made enough for her and Steve, and if Steve knew James had run away he would have tried to help. Steve would either put himself in danger or he would do the right thing and rat James out for the social service. Either away, he couldn’t bring Steve into his mess.

And he didn’t have to. James had a job. It was shitty, it was disgusting, but he could do it. He had started just pouring drinks, but when one of the dancers was arrested James was asked to fill in. He had been nervous at first, not about the dancing, he was good at that. But he didn’t like what it meant for the people watching. It made him feel cheap. It didn’t help that, even if he weren’t naked, it was a near thing.

At least it was just dancing, though. James knew very well that a lot of the other guys also provided a happy ending to their performances, but since he was already a minor the noble owners of the Red Room didn’t want him selling his body, well, no more than he did.

But James wouldn’t be seventeen forever, and really. It didn’t come as much of a surprise when they told him, a week before his birthday – because they knew that, of course they did – he was told he was getting a promotion.

James hadn’t cried since the day his parents were buried, he was pretty sure his last tear had fell right after he said goodbye to Steve.

That night, after James was told about his _promotion_ , he went back the bedroom he shared with two other dancers at the back of the Red Room.  He took the backpack he kept under the bed, unlocked the padlock he used to bind the zippers together and pulled them open. He took his dad’s old jacket from the bottom of the backpack and pulled the small piece of paper from the inside pocked.

James unfolded the paper carefully and stared at it until his vision became blurry. He sniffed, but didn’t let a single tear fall. Steve wouldn’t have cried. Steve was so strong.

There was a knock on the door and James hurried to put the paper back in the pocket and the jacket inside the backpack. He had just shoved it back under the bed when the door opened. The knock wasn’t to ask for permission, it was a warning.

 Karpov, the Russian stripper, entered the room. “Someone’s here to see you.”

For a stupid second James actually thought that it was Steve. Steve had found him, he would bring Bucky home. But of course, it wasn’t Steve. Steve wouldn’t set foot in a place like this.

An older man, probably in his fifties, entered the room as soon as Karpov announced it. Another dude, maybe in his mid-thirties, and with muscle enough on him to leave no doubt as to his role there was right behind him.

James’ stomach did a backflip. He knew that if he didn’t do what they wanted he would be kicked out, but he had thought they were going to wait until he turned eighteen. He definitely didn’t think they would kill him if he said no.

 He opened his mouth but the older man spoke before he had a chance to.

“Hello, James. My name is Alexander Pierce.” The man smiled at him, and it was so predatory James had to suppress a shiver. “How would you like to be part of something better than this?”


	2. Chapter 2

Clint was the one who contacted Steve about the job. Though Steve knew Nat – Clint’s wife – longer, she was usually busier than Clint, so she didn't have a lot of time on her hands. Even if she did like multitasking, there were times she couldn’t help but delegate.

Natasha was Nick Fury's second in command, as editor chief for SHIELD.

Clint, for his part, was sort of a busy boy for the magazine, doing whatever errand Nat or Fury needed him to. He wasn't technically an employee but nobody seemed to care, especially Clint himself. He had lost most of his hearing in Iraq, and had been living on his benefits ever since.

Sometimes Steve liked to joke that Natasha was Clint’s sugar mommy, but Steve was well aware that that wasn't a step too large from the truth.  The reality though, was that Clint Barton didn't care about money all that much, and he lived with what he could get.

And as for their boss, Nick Fury, well, the man had a really weird style. All black leather and an honest to god eye patch.

"BDSM," Clint had point one day, mouth full of half chewed French fries, using one of them to point at Steve. "Telling ya."

Steve had scrunched his nose, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of Clint's lack of manners or the mental image his words had just evoked on Steve's vivid imagination.

All in all, Steve was really glad when Clint had called him about the project SHIELD was working on, and offered the job for Steve. It was really tough to be an artist in a time when everybody preferred photos to paints and thought themselves artists because they could add filters on Instagram. And, although doing paintings like this wasn’t really Steve’s scene, he couldn’t afford to pass on the offer, not after he was told how much he would be paid.

So a week after Clint’s phone call Steve gathered his supplied and headed to the fancy hotel in Manhattan where he was going to do some trial sketches for Fury to get an idea of Steve’s style, even though Steve had  an entire portfolio and a website with pretty much everything he had done professionally.

He had to indulge, though. Apparently the request had come from way above. From the agency of the model Steve was going to draw for the next issue of SHIELD.  

Steve was on one of the huge rooms of the hotel now, his backpack on his lap as he checked to see if he had brought everything. He didn’t have to, not now anyway, Steve had been told he just had to do a quick sketch to see it he could do justice in faithfully reproducing the features of their model. Steve hadn’t even been told about who it was, because they didn’t want him to practice at home.

Steve barely registered the door to his left opening and closing, too lost in thought. But he was quickly brought back to the present as a smooth, flirting voice addressed him.

“So you’re the one who’s gonna draw me like one of your French girls?”

Steve’s neck snapped up so fast he almost pulled a muscle. It wasn’t that he was startled by the sudden voice, it was… That voice. Steve knew that voice.

“Bucky?”

Bucky, because it was Bucky, even if the voice hadn’t been a giveaway, the face was enough confirmation. Sure, Bucky was older now, seemed to have a lot more muscle on him, even though he looked a bit skinny for someone his height, and his hair was longer, but it was definitely him.

Steve’s heart was beating so fast he was afraid it was going to break the pacemaker. Behind his eyes Steve could see himself, a fourteen year-old kid with more bones than meat on him, Bucky holding his hand, pulling him. An old tree. A sunny afternoon.

Steve blinked and the images disappeared, dissolving back to his memories.

Bucky narrowed his eye at him. “Who the—” And for a moment Steve held his breath, sure that he hadn’t been recognized. Well, Steve _did_ change a lot as well. It wouldn’t be too surprising if Bucky didn’t remember him, although Steve couldn’t help the pang of disappointment at the thought.

After a few more seconds of scrutiny, Bucky’s eyes widen and Steve saw the exact moment his brain put the pieces together.

“Holy shit! Rogers?” Steve nodded dumbly, releasing his breath. “Steve Rogers?” Bucky asked again, apparently still in need of confirmation, so Steve nodded on more time.

“Yeah,” Steve breathed out, feeling the corners of his mouth pull up at their own volition. “Yeah, Buck. It’s me.”

\---

Bucky.

God, it even hurt to listen. It had been so long since someone had called James that, it took him a moment to recognize the nickname. Up until a second ago James was sure he would never hear it again, after all _Bucky_ came from Buchanan, and that wasn’t his name anymore. He hadn’t been James Buchanan Barnes in ten years; there hadn’t been a single person in his life over the past decade who knew that nickname.

And then, out of the sudden, there was Steve Rogers in front of him.

For a moment James thought this was one of Pierce’s games. Pierce always seemed to know every little thing about his life, after all. But James was almost entirely sure Alexander didn’t know about Steve. So what the hell was Steve doing there?

James then remembered what _he_ was doing there. Alexander had signed a contract with SHIELD. James was supposed to model for a series of paintings that were going to be on the next issue of the magazine. And Steve… Steve had been drawing since before he could walk.

James was about to asked for a confirmation on his theory when Steve began to shuffle through his pockets and then the compartments of his backpack. “What are you looking for?” James asked.

“My inhaler,” Steve replied without looking up.

“You still got asthma?” A strong wind could have done Steve in back when they were kids, but the man in from of James now was as big as a house, he was pretty sure the buttons of his shirt were keeping it together by sheer force of will. It was hard to believe a man like that needed to suck on a little device to keep on breathing.

Steve stopped in his search to glace up at James with a funny look. “Yeah, Buck.” He looked down to the open backpack and, after one more pat inside one of the pockets, Steve’s hand came up holding the small, blue inhaler. Steve shook it and removed the cap, using it twice before putting it back in the backpack.

“But you all –” James waved his hand up and down in front of him encompassing the whole length of Steve’s body.  “Big.”

Steve let out a small self-deprecating snort. “I grew muscle, can’t grow another lung, though.” He unbuttoned the first three buttons of his shirt and shove it aside far enough to show James the vertical scar on the left side of his chest. “Or a heart.”

“You had a heart surgery.” It wasn’t a question, but Steve nodded anyway.

“To put on the pacemaker.”

James shook his head, amused despite the subject of their conversation; he had always been worried about Steve’s health in the past, but this… “Jesus! Haven’t changed at all, have ya?” James smirked.

Steve shot him a look that was completely unimpressed.

“I mean, you’re a digivolved version,” James clarified, “But you’re still you.”

“On the inside,” Steve conceded, “where every part is trying to kill me.”

James snickered. “And you’re still a little punk.” He couldn’t believe this was happening, he was half expecting to wake up any minute now. The whole situation was so surreal it had to be a dream.

“I ain’t little,” Steve said in a tone that clearly meant James had hit a nerve. He was about to apologize when Steve seemed to relax a little, and added with a smirk of his own, “Jerk.”

They used to do this all the time, call each other names, get on each other’s nerves but never really meaning any of it. Those old memories were the only thing that kept James from lashing out at the insult.

In front of him, Steve shook his head as if he were also trying to clear his own head. ”But – what are you doing here, Bucky? You work here?” He glance up and down at James, but it wasn’t in the sexual way James was used to, Steve was actually looking at his clothes, the fact that they were pretty expensive didn’t seem to have gone unnoticed.

Steve’s eyes went back to his face. James held his gaze; Steve looked confused and a little hurt. “Where have you been?” Steve asked in a small voice, the same kind of voice James had used – a lifetime ago – when he asked Steve not to hate him.

But that was a conversation James was not going to have with Steve. Ever. Before he could answer the door behind him opened and closed. James didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Ah, James,” Pierce said stepping beside him, “I see you already met our artist.” Though he was addressing him, Alexander didn’t even look at James as he went over to Steve. “Alexander Pierce, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve got up to shake Pierce’s hand. “Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Pierce. Please, call me Steve.” He stole a glance at James and then looked back at Alexander. “I actually –”

“Just got here,” James interrupted, keeping his eyes focused on Alexander. “Mr. Rogers and I just met, few minutes before you came in.”

From the corner of his eye James could see that Steve was frowning, but thankfully, he got with the program and kept his mouth shut.

Alexander looked briefly from James to Steve and then clapped his hands together. “Very well, so _Steve_ , what do you think about my James? Do you think you can do him justice?” Alexander fixed James with a gaze that made him feel the need to hide. “James Winter has a reputation to uphold.”

This time Steve wasn’t so fast to connect the dots and he frowned at Pierce. “Who?”

Pierce lifted an eyebrow at James. “I thought you said you had introduced yourself.”

“But –” _Please, Steve, just shut up_ , James thought. He wanted to make some kind of pleading sign for Steve but Pierce had his eyes glued on him. “I’m sorry, sir. I misheard you.”

James let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

“Course I can do him justice,” Steve continued. “I just – I need some quiet to concentrate.” He waited until Pierce’s finally turned his attention on his to keep on saying. “Give me half an hour and I can deliver you a couple of sketches.”

Pierce glanced at his watch. “I have a meeting,” he said to his own wrist, and then he turned to James. “Rumlow will pick you up in an hour.” He started to walk towards the door, and stopped right before opening it to look back at Steve. “I look forward to see your work, _Steve._ ”

Alexander smiled sharply at Steve before leaving them alone. Steve didn’t know him, so – even though he was looking at James as if trying to solve a puzzle – he was still relaxed. James’ body was tight with tension. He knew that smile, it was not friendly, it was a disguise, it was meant to lure prey.

James wanted to tell Steve to go home and never  come back here again, but when he opened his mouth so did Steve, and he spoke before James had the chance to.

“Well, I guess we should get started.”


	3. Chapter 3

James.

It was so weird to hear someone address Bucky like that. Nobody used to use Bucky’s name to talk to him, and he hated whenever anyone did.

And now he just accepted it. It would take a while – if they were going to work together, which seemed like the case – for Steve to get used to it. He would have to ask Bucky if he could still use the nickname.

There were so many things Steve wanted to ask him. Who the fuck was James Winter? Why did Bucky lie? If Steve didn't know any better, and he really didn't, he would have said Bucky was afraid of Alexander Pierce.

Steve’s knowledge of him might be outdated, but the Bucky he knew didn't scare easily. And he definitely wouldn't have been scared of some rich type like Pierce. There was something happening behind the curtains, and Steve suspected it had everything to do with the fact that Bucky had completely disappeared for ten years. And Steve was sure Pierce was right in the middle of it.

For now, though. He was going to put Bucky at ease and focus on the drawing. Whatever Steve felt about the man, Pierce was still Bucky’s boss and the last thing Steve wanted was to put Bucky in trouble. He had done that way too many times in the past.

Steve asked Bucky to sit on the couch where he had just been, because it faced the huge, almost floor to ceiling window, and moved to the armchair beside the sofa.

The soft orange light coming from the window showered Bucky perfectly. His hair was longer than Steve had ever remembering it being, but it suited him somehow. At Steve’s request, he had let it out of the small bun he had it when he came on, and now it hang just over his shoulders, framing Bucky’s face.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair a few times, and it reminded Steve of how Bucky’s mom always scowled at his greasy hair.

Bucky saw him looking, and it was like he could read Steve’s thoughts. “It doesn’t have to be clean for a drawing, right?” He pointed out with a shrug.

“No, it doesn’t,” Steve agreed with him. He put the backpack on the floor, taking his pencil case and sketchbook from it and placing everything he needed on his lap.

The silence between them was heavy and awkward, and Steve took his time finding a clean page, just to have something to do other than stare at Bucky, which he would have to do at some point.

Bucky let his impatience show with a very deliberate cleaning of his throat. Steve finally glanced up at him. “So, uh, how do you want me?”

Steve studied Bucky’s face. There was something there. It wasn’t just the years that had passed. It wasn’t that the last time Steve had seen him Bucky had been no more than a kid, and now he was a man.

Bucky looked like someone who had seen people’s bad sides way too many times, he looked like he wouldn’t trust a scout girl selling cookies.  Steve vaguely wondered what would take for someone to get use to never letting their guards down.

It must be exhausting.

He tried to offer Bucky his most friendly smile. “Just sit there and look pretty.”

Bucky winked playfully at Steve, but the grin on his face seemed a little strained. “Easy, then.”

Steve didn’t know what to say to that, so he just got on to business.

\---

James was used to being observed. The feel of being watched twenty four hours a day had been his companion for years now, and he had learned a long time ago how to navigate through lingering stares and unwanted attention. None of it compared to the way Steve looked at him now though, as he traced his pencil across the paper in precise lines that showed no sign of hesitation, demonstration how good Steve was at that.

Steve didn't look at him as if he was imagining how James looked naked. He didn't seem to be calculating how many zeros he would have to put on a check to have James put out. Steve wasn't looking at him as if he was a prize possession.

He had such an intense gaze, though. James had never felt so exposed. He had danced half naked in front of a crowd; he had _posed_ naked for a photoshoot. And yet, he had never felt that someone was looking right inside of him like Steve was doing now. It was like Steve could see right through all the walls James had carefully built to protect himself.

James had a feeling his sexy, cocky, flirtatious persona wouldn’t work on Steve, and it scared the hell out of him. He didn’t want Steve to see what was beneath.

In front of him, Steve shook his head and let out a long sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can’t get it right,” Steve replied without looking up from where he was frowning at the paper.

James doubted that. For one, he knew how great of an artist Steve had been, and second, James had been part of seventy percent of Steve’s drawings from the day they met (at four Steve already could draw better than James at twenty six). He had always been good at putting James’ face on paper.

“Let me see.” He stood up and crouched in front of the armchair Steve was sitting.

“Nah.” Steve pushed the notebook away from James, holding it protectively against his chest.  “It’s not good,” Steve protested.

James chuckled at him. He had forgotten how adorable Steve could be. “You saying I’m ugly, Rogers?” He corked an eyebrow.

Steve rolled his eyes. “No,” he said with a high voice, and was that James’ imagination or was Steve blushing? “I’m saying I’m not _doing you justice._ ”

Hearing Steve quote Alexander’s words killed the smile off James’ face. He returned to the sofa without another word.

Steve noticed his change of mood and hurried after him, holding out the drawing. “If you really want—”

“No, no, it’s okay, Steve.” James waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll wait ‘til is ready.”

Steve didn’t seem very convinced. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” James smiled up at him. “Let’s finish this, we don’t have much time.”

After another one of his questioning looks Steve finally returned to the armchair, flipping a new sheet on his sketchbook. And James suddenly missed the familiarity they used to have like it was a lost limb.

\---

“So,” Nat began after she finally sat down next to Steve on the booth, sliding one of the beers she had in her hand to Steve. “What do you think of Winter?”

“Uh, he uh.” It wasn’t that Steve didn’t trust Natasha, but he had a feeling Bucky didn’t go around talking about his past, so Steve rather play safe. “I actually knew him, we uh, went to school together.”

Natasha looked impressed. “You’re serious,” she asked and Steve nodded. “Woah, I didn’t even know he was American.”

“How come?”

“Well, I imagine you don’t follow the European fashion scene.” Not even the American one. Steve shook his head in confirmation. “Yeah, figured. So, most of his work was done in Europe, he started in Russia, I think. Then some in Asia and a couple of times in Australia, if memory serves me. I don’t think I ever saw him in the country.”

“And there was nothing about his life on the mags he’s been.”

“Not really, but that’s not surprising. His agent does all the talking for him.”

Well, that wasn’t really unusual; neither was Bucky changing his name, famous people did that all the time. It still didn’t serve to put Steve at ease. It didn’t explain how Bucky managed to get out of the country. The last Steve had seen him Bucky had just been put under foster care; he had no money, let alone a passport. Did Pierce falsified documents for Bucky?

“You hadn’t seen him since you were kids?”

“No, he—” Steve sighed. “He moved.”

Natasha studied him for a moment, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Steve, you okay with this? If you don’t wanna work with this guy—”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just – I thought I’d never see him again. It’s uh, it’s been a long time.”

“Did he break your heart or something?” Clint, who apparently had caught the tail end of their conversation, slid next to Natasha on the booth, taking a sip of her beer as he did.

Steve saw himself running down a flight of old stairs as fast as his small legs and bad lungs would let him; opening the door of his building with more force than necessary. Bucky was already putting his things on the trunk of the car, the social worker with the beat trench coat holding a door open for him.

Steve hadn’t said anything. He was panting hard from getting down the stairs, but even if that was not the case, he still didn’t know. How do you say goodbye to your best friend?

_Bucky stopped what he was doing to look at Steve. For a moment Steve saw the concern break way through the grieving on Bucky’s face. “You okay, Stevie?” Once Steve nodded Bucky went back to looking miserable, though he was still staring at Steve. “I’m gonna miss the hell outta ya, Stevie.”_

_Behind him the social worker cleared his throat at Bucky’s language, but neither Bucky nor Steve really acknowledged the man’s presence._

_Steve felt his eyes sting with tears he wanted so bad to keep at bay. He had to be strong for Bucky, to show him that everything was going to be fine. He had promised Bucky at the service. It would be okay, everything would be okay._

_Now Bucky was leaving and Steve was breaking right in front of him._

_He didn’t know what to say so he just closed the small distance between them and flung his arms around Bucky, holding him like a lifeline. Bucky held him just as tight._

_“Please, don’t forget me,” Bucky whispered against his hair, his breath hot and wet on Steve’s ear._

_Steve shook his head. “Can’t. Don’t know how to. Don’t want.”_

_Bucky sniffed a laugh as he disentangled himself from Steve. “Stubborn, punk,” he said as he wiped his eyes and nose with the sleeve of his hoodie._

_Steve couldn’t bring himself to laugh. Taking the drawing he did ten minutes ago when they got home from the cemetery, Steve pushed it face down onto Bucky’s hands._

_“What’s this?” Bucky asked as he turned over the paper. His eyes widened, and for a moment Steve was sure he had messed up, but then Bucky looked back at him. He was crying openly but he was also smiling. “Thank you.” He glanced back at the social worker who had been watching them silently and then shrugged dismissively, stepping into Steve’s personal space and bringing a hand to rest on his face._

_“You’re the best, Stevie,” Bucky whispered before planting a sloppy wet kiss over Steve’s lips._

I love you, too, _Steve thought but he didn’t say. He couldn’t get anything past the lump in his throat. But he nodded like an idiot to everything coming out of his friend’s mouth, and Bucky seemed to get it._

_Another five minutes and Bucky was in the car and out of Steve’s life._

Steve realized Clint was still waiting for an answer. He cleared his throat and took a sip of his beer just to have something to do.

“Or something,” he answered at last.


	4. Chapter 4

Fury and Pierce approved the sketches and a series of ten paintings were commissioned for the next issue of SHIELD.  It would be the tightest schedule Steve had ever worked with, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the challenge.

Steve was given some leeway in terms of scenery but he had to mix both inside and outside background, and one of the outside ones had to be on the beach.

He decided he was going to start by that one.

“I take you have location in mind already,” Fury said after he finished explaining the deal he had with Alexander Pierce. The man himself hadn’t graced them with his presence, but Steve couldn’t say he was all that heartbroken by it.

There was something about Pierce that just rubbed Steve the wrong way.

“I do, actually.”

“Well, I hope you’re not intending in keeping it a secret, because, well, you can’t. For one thing, you are not the boss, and therefore you have to answer to the boss.” Fury pointed at himself. “Which is me.  And second, the location has to be approved by Pierce.”

“Why?”

Fury cooked his head to the side and looked at Steve in a way that showed how thin his patience was running. “Because is his model, Rogers.”

Steve exhaled heavily. “Fine, it’s Coney Island.”

“See,” Fury pointed as he took his phone off the hook and briefly asked his secretary to contact Pierce. “Bet it didn’t even hurt.” Steve just rolled his eyes at him. “Yes, it’s me,” Fury said to the person on the other line. “Yes, I just talked to him. He is here.” There was a brief pause in which Fury mouthed _He didn’t say hi_ to Steve, before returning his attention to the phone call. “That’s why I called. We have the first location. Coney Island. Hm.” Fury covered the mouthpiece with one hand and turned to Steve. “When?”

Steve glanced at the window behind Fury’s desk. It was a very beautiful day. The afternoon promised to bring some nice lightning. Steve would have to take pictures for reference since he doubted he would be done before the sun was down, but he was itching to get started.

“Today.”

Fury informed Pierce and then fell silent as he listened to the other man’s reply.  He hung up about three minutes later without uttering another word.

“Well, Rogers. Your idea has been approved. I’ll have Dugan put a crew together for you.”

“Thank you, but there’s no need. I don’t need people to hold my hand as I draw.” He smirked. “It’s not a photoshoot, no crew needed.”

Fury scoffed. “Suit yourself. Just be ready in an hour.”

“You’ll get me a car?” He was kind of hoping he could take Bucky in his motorcycle.

Fury shook his head. “No. Pierce’s man will be taking you and Winter there and back.”

Steve almost protested. He wondered if he would get any time alone with Bucky. There was so much Steve wanted to talk to him about, but he couldn’t do it with someone who worked for Pierce so close by.

He got up from his chair after settling the rest of the details for the afternoon. Before leaving, Steve stopped at the door and finally surrendered to his curiosity. “Nick,” He called, “how well do you know Pierce?”

“Well enough, why?”

“Do you trust him?”

Fury contemplated the question for a second before answering it. “His models have always been good.” It felt as if he were talking about goods, not people, which only aggravated Steve’s bad feeling. “So, I suppose I ought to.”

It wasn’t an answer, and Steve was sure a man as sharp as Nicholas Fury was well aware of that. And if Fury didn’t feel confident enough in vouching for Pierce, well, then Steve was going to have to do some research.

\---

If there was ever an award for most awkward greeting, it should have gone to Steve and James as they tried to be friendly and professional at the same time, failing spectacularly in both accounts.

James could just count his blessings with the fact that Steve, at least, didn’t call him Bucky. He knew Rumlow was cataloguing every little thing he did, lest there’d be something to report to Pierce.

Alexander had never specifically forbidden James from seeing anyone, but there was a huge difference between sleeping around and being so intimate with a person they had special nicknames for you.

Relationships of any kind were off the table. It was bad publicity. James was to be desired. It wouldn’t go well if he was suddenly someone’s exclusive. According to Alexander, no matter what religion, catholic guilt was a thing everybody had. No one liked to feel as if they were lusting after something or someone that was already taken. James’ purpose was to make people feel good, not question their morality. Their sexuality, maybe, but that was another story.

So he kept his and Steve’s personal spaces intact, acting as if they had met before but not much.

Steve looked from Rumlow to the car and the expression on his face resembled someone who had just sucked on a lime.

Once Brock was finally back in the car James winked at Steve. “Come on, Rogers,” he called with a smirk as he entered the vehicle. “We got work to do.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he followed James inside. “This was unnecessary,” he complained as he actually put on a seatbelt. James hadn’t seen someone on the backseat wear one since he was fifteen. Becca hadn’t been wearing one the day of the accident. James swallowed hard. He was glad Steve was such a boy scout.

Rumlow’s presence in the car was enough to shut them both up. And if James were honest with himself he was kind of relieved. If Steve was still the person he knew, there was no doubt he would shower James with a dozen questions as soon as he got the chance.

Their brief encounter at the hotel was definitely not enough to satisfy Steve’s curiosity. James didn’t want to lie to him, but there was no way he was going to tell Steve about things like the Red Room, or how scared James had been his first years in Russia. He needed to come up with a clean version of his story to tell Steve at some point.

They were going to spend a lot of time together for this job, after all. James had to be prepared.

He had been so lost in thought that, even though he had been looking out the window he didn’t realize where they were heading until Rumlow stopped the car.

James looked at Rumlow through the rearview mirror. “What are we doing here?” Rumlow couldn’t … He didn’t know about where James had come from. He knew James, he never met Bucky. Why would he bring them there?

“What?” Steve’s eyes went from James to Rumlow. “You didn’t tell him.”

“I don’t have to tell him anything,” Rumlow snapped, looking at them from the mirror. “I don’t work for him.”

“I wanna go back.” James didn’t dare looking to either Steve or Brock.

“That’s too bad now, ‘cause you got work to do.”

“I won’t stay here,” He snarled at Brock’s reflection. James had left this part of himself so far behind, that sometimes it felt like that life had belonged to a different person.

“Do you want to tell that to the boss?” Rumlow shuffled on his seat and suddenly a cellphone dropped on the backseat, right between Steve and James. “Be my guest.”

Steve unfastened his seatbelt and leaned forward. He held onto the passenger seat as he turned to look at Rumlow. “Could you give us a minute?” His jaw was locked tightly and James could see how much Steve was holding back, he didn’t like the way Brock talked to James that much was clear.

Brock glared at Steve for a moment before grabbing his pack of cigarettes from the glove compartment. "Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug before stepping out.

Steve leaned back again, scooting closer to James. All the fire in his eyes melted the moment he glanced and him. “Buck, what’s the matter?” Steve asked softly. “You don’t want to see where you came from?”

He looked hurt at the mere idea and James shook his head to put him at ease. “No, Steve,” he reassured. “I don’t want to see what I lost."

Steve inhaled sharply as if he had been punched. He opened and closed his mouth twice, and stole a quick glance to where Rumlow was outside, before taking one of James’ hand on his own.

“You – you didn’t lose Coney Island, Buck.” Then he averted his gaze and mumbled, “You didn’t lose me either.”

James felt hollow. He knew that, he knew he hadn’t lost Steve, knew it even as he ran from the halfway house. But then, as he danced for the first time in the Red Room, his conviction slowly began to crumble. Steve wouldn’t like what James, his Bucky, had become.

He took his hand off of Steve’s and opened the door, bracing himself for the familiar sights he hadn’t seen a decade.

“Come on,” he called as he began to step out, “Brock’s right, we got work to do.”

“Why d’you keep running from me?” Steve whispered.

James stopped in his track for about two seconds before stepping out completely, leaving the door open for Steve.

\---

They found a rock far enough away from people. Steve asked Bucky to sit on in and the sun did his best in making Buck look like some sort of ethereal being. His hair was down and it shadowed parts of his face. He looked small and heartbroken. It wasn’t a look that helped selling magazines.

 Steve hadn’t asked it but he was certain this was the first time Bucky had been here since his parents and sister died. No wonder he was so sad. The Barnes’ had made a tradition to come to the beach almost every weekend. Sometimes, when his health allowed, Steve was dragged along. Bucky, Rebecca and him had played hide-and-seek between those rocks more times than he could count.

Bucky was suffering, and that was the reason Steve didn’t see fair to bring along his own pain in being rejected. Bucky had a whole new life and – if the radio silence form the past years, and the cold shoulder from now were any indication – it was clear that there was no space for Steve in it. Knowing that hurt as much as spending years not knowing if he was even alive.

Steve glanced back to where Rumlow was sweating away under a kiosk. Pierce had probably instructed him about half a dozen things he could and couldn’t let Bucky do. A curfew was probably there somewhere so they needed to at least start with what they had come to do.

Steve didn’t want to draw Bucky like that, though, closed off and heavyhearted.

“Hey, Buck.” He waited until Bucky’s gaze finally left the sea to look at him. “Do you remember that day I almost drowned?”

Bucky snorted, some amusement showing on his face. Good. “Which time?”

“The one you saved me?”

Bucky shook his head, a small smile tugging at corners of his mouth. “Again, Rogers, gotta be more specific.”

Steve shook his head, grinning at him. “You’re a jerk,” he said, stretching out his legs before returning them to the lotus flower position he had been sitting for the past ten minutes.

“You asked,” Bucky pointed with a shrug. His shoulders were a lot less tensed when they came down. He looked up pass Steve’s head, to the rest of the beach. “I almost forgot how beautiful this place is,” Bucky confessed.

“Yeah, I don’t come as much as I used to, either.”

Bucky actually glared at him this time. “You can still come whenever you want.”

“So can you!”

Bucky slid down on the rock far enough to kick some sand on Steve’s legs. “I’m across the pond, asshole.”

“How _did_ you make it there, anyway? You didn’t even have a passport.”

Bucky tensed a little and for a moment Steve thought he was going to close off again, but then he smirked, assuming the self-assured, cocky posture Steve knew so well. “Right connections,” he explained vaguely. “Aaand, I speak the language.”

Steve remembered Natasha mentioning Russia.

“You speak Russian?” Bucky’s eyebrows shot up in surprise that Steve knew that.

“Yeah, I worked four years there, had to learn.”

Steve was in awe. Bucky said that as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Steve still had nightmares about the Spanish tests from high school. And he could never reproduce the Gaelic songs his mom used to sing him when he was a kid.

“What other languages did you learn?”

“Portuguese, French and I can put some German words together to order a meal or room service. You?”

“Gee, I never passed _Hola, como estás?_ ” Steve said, cringing at his awful pronunciation.

Bucky chuckled. “For what it’s worth, I always struggled with Spanish, too.”

Steve squinted suspiciously at him “You speak Spanish, don’t you?”

“Just a little,” Bucky mumbled under his breath. He looked shy about it and Steve suddenly realized he was perfect. Aesthetically speaking.  Bucky was relaxed enough, though he still had some mystery behind his eyes, which actually worked well for him.

He was looking at the sea again, as if contemplating something.

Steve shuffled through his pockets to get his phone. He unlocked it and opened the camera. “So uh,” he said as he pointed the camera at Bucky. “How do you say ‘keep still’ in jerk language?”

Steve had to take three photos because Bucky had been giving him the finger in the first two.


	5. Chapter 5

Turned out drawing Bucky was like riding a bike, even though Steve hadn’t done it in a long time he still got it. Not that it was all that hard to begin with, not with Bucky’s bone structure. He had a jaw line that _begged_ to be traced an immortalized on paper. His eyes weren’t quite the same and his whole body was a hell of a lot bigger, but put all of them together and Steve could literary spend hours reproducing every single one of Bucky’s little details on his canvas.

Steve had to photograph his process step by step for some sort of behind the scenes SHIELD was going to post on the website after the magazine came out. He had just put the camera down – Fury told him they were going to need a resolution better than the one on Steve’s phone, so he landed him a semi-professional camera – when his phone chimed with a new text.

 It was Sam, saying he was outside. Steve rang the doorman to let him up.

“I brought beer!” Sam exclaimed cheerfully as Steve opened the door. “Am I the best person in your life or what?” He asked as he bypassed Steve and got in.

Steve snorted. “You’re just making up because you couldn’t make it last time.” Steve had called Sam to go celebrate his contract with SHIELD, along with Nat and Clint but Sam had been working that night and had to raincheck.

“Well, I’m here now.” Sam put the six-pack on the coffee table and walked over to the desk on the corner where Steve kept his work. All of his sketches were lying there. Sam let out a long low whistled. “This your new obsession?”

“He’s the model I’m working with.” Steve hesitated a little. “And, uh, he’s – I knew him.”

Sam glanced from the sketches to Steve. “Really?”

“Yeah, we – used to be pretty close.”

“You didn’t tell me you hang out with top models.” Sam casted him a fake serious glare. “Rogers, if you’ve been holding Victory Secret Angel’s phone numbers from me I’ll never speak to you again.”

“’S not like that,” Steve snorted. “Bucky and I know each other since we were kids.”

“Bucky? The top model is named _Bucky._ ”

“That’s a nickname. And I think he doesn’t even go by it anymore.” Steve sat heavily on the couch. He had yet to ask Bucky if he could call him that. It would take some getting used to if he didn’t.

Sam walked over and sat down next to him. “I have a feeling there’s more to it.”

“So much more,” Steve sighed. He had learned over the years that the less he talked about Bucky the less it would hurt, so he never told Sam about him, even though they had been friends since the first day of college, when they discovered they would be roommates. “He disappeared, Sam. I haven’t seen him in ten years.”

“What happened?”

“His parents and sister died in a car accident and he was put in a home because he was sixteen.” The words flew out of Steve’s mouth in such a rush he was amazed they even came out in the right order. The desperation he felt when he was fifteen and his mom told him Bucky was missing coming back all over again. “I don’t know what happened then. I had his address and I sent a letter, but then a social worker who was friends with mom told her Bucky wasn’t there anymore. She couldn’t find him, no one could. He – I never heard of him again until now.”

Steve took a deep breath when he stopped. He felt drained.

Sam shot him a sympathetic glance. “Did he tell you what happened?”

“Not really, but apparently he’s been working in Europe.”

Sam shook his head, his brow frowning in confusion. “How does a sixteen year-old foster kid gets to Europe?” He stayed quiet for almost a full minute, then his eyes widen and he covered his moth with his hand. "Oh, man. Steve, I think I have an idea of what might've happened to your friend. I've studied cases – I mean, just the after math."

If Sam, a psychologist, had studied something like what might have happened to Bucky, then it was probably something really, really bad. It probably also explain why the most well articulate person Steve had ever known was stammering for words.

"What?"

Sam turned on the couch and put a placating hand on Steve's knee. "Look, if I'm right, then you can't jump the gun on this one.  Steve, these jobs they, they sometimes start as something else. Or they become something else along the way.

"And at sixteen? Well, man that's just easy prey. You have a kid who's got nothing in this world, and then you promise to make this kid rich and famous. You promise recognition."

Steve understood then, what Sam was implying. He couldn’t wrap his brain around the idea, though. He felt sick. "Do you think—”

"I don't know, man. It's a possibility.  In third world countries they get young, poor girls from large families by saying they'll be rich here."

"Oh my god." Steve swallowed down the bile in his throat.

"That's why you can't be impulsive. People who do this kind of thing are dangerous. Do you know his agent?"

"Yeah, I've met him. I don't trust him." He knew there was something wrong about Alexander Pierce, something about the way he treated Bucky. Even his driver didn’t show Bucky the least bit of respect, like he was sure the boss wouldn’t mind. But this?

"Good,” Sam nodded. “Go with your gut. But you need proof.   You need to get your friend to talk to you. Who knows? Maybe we're wrong." Even as Sam spoke Steve could see he didn’t believe that either.

"Do you think he's being held against his will?" Steve would break him free right now if that was the case. Contract with SHIELD be damned.

"Again, no way of knowing unless you talk to him, but." Sam hesitated, "You said ten years, right?"

"Yeah, since the last time I saw him."

"That's long enough to establish some sort of dependency on the person who's—” Abusing? Manipulating? He didn't say but Steve got the message loud and clear. Sam shook his head. "You know these things don't have to be physical, right. Sometimes just the thought of not being able to make it without that person is enough to keep someone around."

"I need to talk to him," Steve concluded, echoing Sam’s words.

Sam nodded in agreement. "And be very sensitive about it. He needs to feel safe."

"Thank you, Sam."

“I mean it, Steve. Be careful.”

“I will,” Steve promised. And if careful didn’t work, he would march head first into enemy territory and bring Bucky home even if he had to fight an entire army to get to him.

Steve was not losing Bucky again.

\---

For their next session together Steve chose the same hotel they had met before. It was a five stars place with some beautiful settings. Bucky’s offhanded reference to Titanic had stuck in his mind, and now all Steve wanted to do was draw Bucky lying on the old fashioned sofa. That, and getting the truth about what had happened to Bucky, of course.

He waited for Bucky to change into the designer clothes he was supposed to wear for the paintings, and then instructed him in how Steve wanted him on the sofa.

“You know, I was kidding about the _like_ _a French girl_ thing. We don’t have to do this,” Bucky commented.

“Course we do,” Steve countered. “You just be glad I can’t pick your clothes too.”

Bucky barked a laugh and Steve scowled at him a little to keep still, even though he had already taken his reference picture. Steve didn’t actually need to spend all this time with Bucky, the photo was all he needed, he was going to finish this at home anyway. But neither Fury nor Pierce knew that, and Steve used their lack of knowledge to his advantage. The more time he had with Bucky the closer Steve would get to the truth. Plus, when Bucky was with him Steve could be sure he was okay.

 _At least physically_ , a little voice that sounded a lot like Sam said in Steve’s mind.  He chose to ignore it for now.

“What! You wanna see my tits, too.”

“Only if you have a huge diamond between them,” Steve shot back and Bucky threw his head back and laughed. “Stay still.”

Steve began to sketch Bucky with the laughter lines on his face. This one wouldn’t go to SHIELD, though. This would be Steve’s.

“I didn’t even know that was something you thought about, you know.” Steve started fishing for information then, he wasn’t big on subtlety so he kept his eyes on the drawing. “Modeling. I mean, you were always handsome, sure –”

 “Stevie!” Bucky exclaimed, cutting off Steve’s ramble, and Steve looked up at him. He had a hand over his heart. “Stevie, Stevie, Stevie,” Bucky said, slowly shaking his head. “Do you think I’m handsome?”

Steve could feel himself blush. “Shut up.” He glanced at the sketch on his lap. _Yeah_ , _yeah_ _Buck. I think you’re beautiful._

\---

Steve was blushing something awful and James wanted so bad to tease, but he couldn’t just ignore how fast his own heart was beating. Steve didn’t contradict him; he didn’t take back what he said either.

James had heard so many people calling him a variety of names to express how good they thought he looked, but they all sounded lustful and insincere. Steve hadn’t even realized what he’d just said until James pointed it out.

He took the opportunity that Steve was too embarrassed to look up to study him. He had change so much on the outside.

_Bucky was sure he had been in love with Steve since the first day he saw him, getting his ass handed to him trying to rescue Sally O’Donnel’s glasses from boy twice his size._

_Steve was a fierce little thing and, from the moment they met, Bucky had been always torn between protecting him and seeing how far he’d go before he asked for help. A lost cause that one, Bucky found out soon. Steve would easily get himself killed before admitting he was out of his depth._

_He was a stubborn little punk. And Bucky wanted to spend the rest of his life with him._

_As they grew older Bucky stared to notice other things about Steve. Stuff he had never paid attention before, like the way Steve bit on his bottom lip when he was concentrated on something, or how long his fingers were. Steve had a pretty big hand for a guy his size._

_When Bucky began to dream about Steve the same way he dreamt about the girls in his class he had to stop lying to himself. He liked boys. Well, he didn’t know about other boys, but he definitely liked Steve._

_Steve might be the reckless one between them, but Bucky didn’t back down from things either, at least not without trying. He decided he was going to kiss Steve. Bucky didn’t give a damn about what other people would say. He was going to kiss Steve Rogers and if anyone dare say anything Bucky would marry him, just out of spite._

_Of course things would go a lot better if Steve felt the same. Bucky would protect him if anyone tried to hurt Steve for it. But Bucky need to know first, maybe Steve didn’t like boys, just because Bucky had never seen him with a girl, it didn’t mean anything._

_But maybe Steve liked him too. Maybe Steve felt the same and they could be together._

_Bucky spent an entire week looking for the right moment, but every time he made a move toward Steve something got in the way, or someone would come in, or Steve would have a goddamn asthma attack just as Bucky started to lean forward._

_Ugh! It was driving him half out of his mind. Why was it so difficult to get a kiss out of Steve Rogers?_

_By the end of the week Bucky just said fuck it. He was going to do it now, or he wasn’t going to think about it ever again._

_His classes ended an hour earlier than Steve’s that day, and every minute felt like an eternity as he waited for Steve to leave class._

_When the bell finally rang Bucky was sure he had cobwebs all over him. He had been waiting for_ so _long._

_He spotted Steve right away, but there were way too many people around them. Had the school always been that full? Bucky didn’t want an audience, especially if Steve was going to let him down. So he took Steve’s hand and dragged him away from the crowd._

_Bucky didn’t really know where they were going, he was following the way home but he wanted to be as close to their noisy neighbors as he wanted to be with the people at school._

_He was a ball of nervous and he was about to give up when they were passing the park._

_Bucky hadn’t prayed as much as his mom would like him to in a long time. She would be glad to know that he was making all sorts of promises to God as he pulled Steve along with him to the park._

James realized he was staring at Steve’s lips and quickly casted his eyes elsewhere.

 “Hey, I never asked,” he began, desperate to fill in the silence. “How’s your mom? What does she think of this new version of you?”

“She uh – she died. She died a week before I turned nineteen. Believe it or not, I only started getting like this about five years ago.”

The horrible truth of what Steve said hit James with the force of a speeding train. He left Steve alone. He could have… If he had stayed they might have found a way together. They could have shared an apartment. They wouldn’t have to grow up apart. But James ran away and Steve was all alone when he needed James the most.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled under his breath. All these years, Steve had been as alone as James. And yet, he didn’t sell himself because of it.  

James had never sold his body for sex, but there were times he couldn’t help but to feel like a whore.

Steve smiled sadly at him. “Thanks, Bucky.” He was quiet for a moment as he concentrated back on his work.  James had also resumed his original position. He had been like that for a few minutes when Steve spoke again. “Hey, is it okay that I keep calling you Bucky?” James turned to look at him. “I notice people don’t call you that anymore.”

“I think you are the only person alive who remembers that,” James confessed.

“If you want –”

“No,” James stopped him, knowing exactly what Steve was going to suggest. He had lost so much of his old life. Now that he was here with Steve, James wanted to hold on to that for as long as he could. “I like that you still call me that,” he said with a grin.

Steve exhaled, grinning back at him. “That’s good. It would be a pain to get used to calling you James.” He giggled. “I’d feel like a teacher. Mr. Barnes, go back to your sit,” Steve said in fake voice.

James froze.  He looked at the door and then to the rest of the room behind him, even though he knew they were alone. “Don’t say that,” he snapped at Steve. And immediately reprehended himself when he saw Steve flinching at his harsh tone. “Sorry, I didn’t mean – he sighed. “Look, I left my past behind when I moved to Europe,” James explained. “I left that name here too.”

The Red Room had never asked for a last name. Pierce didn’t bother either, but James wasn’t all the sure he didn’t know it.

Winter had been Alexander’s idea. James’ stage name in the Red Room was Winter Soldier; he used to dance on a military uniform until he was in nothing but underwear and dog-tags. Winter came from the fact he didn’t let people touch him. He was cold.

When James left the Red Room Pierce gave him an ID and passport with the name James Winter already in it. Sometimes James feared he only did that because it would be easier to connect it with James’ past. It was yet another insurance to keep James on his place.

Thankfully Steve didn’t ask him about it. “Hm,” he let out, with such disinterest James knew it was fake. “’Kay, Buck,” Steve nodded. “I can do that.”

About an hour later, when Steve announced they were done for the day and James changed back to his own clothes, he turned to Steve, deciding to voice the doubts that had been running around his head.

“Steve,” he called as Steve was gathering his own things. Steve looked up at him with an open expression. “We – we still friends?”

Steve blinked at James as if he didn’t really understand the question. James felt his stomach tighten itself in knots. He braced himself for a blow.

“On my part, yeah,” Steve finally said. “Always.”

James let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Mine too,” he said quickly.

The grin that broke on Steve face was bright enough to blind a man.  James wanted to go full on Icarus on it.

\---

Modeling for Steve made James remember that, in spite of the circumstances, he actually did like his job. Even back in the Red Room, as disgusting as the customers were, James knew that he was good at what he was doing, and that he was appreciated for it.

He had always been good at charming people, and it wasn’t just because of his looks, he knew how to be captivating. James could hold a conversation and make people at ease or nervous in his presence, or at least he would do those things, if Pierce hadn’t made clear he was to be seen not heard.

Pierce had let down a lot of contracts for James to appear in commercials and other types of publicity. Apparently that kind of money was beneath him.

Working with Steve now, he could relax enough to be himself. He could tease and tell jokes, could appreciated being the center of attention.

It was easy to fall back into his old ways around Steve.

It was also, really, really hard not to flirt with him.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that they would fall back into their old ways. Steve and James had, after all, been more than just best friends. Steve and _Bucky_ , James corrected himself.

But really, if skinny, little Steve had been enough to charm Bucky all up; of course broad-shouldered, built like a house Steve would get James’ blood boiling just as well.

These days, more often than not, James caught himself think back to the time Steve and him used to… what? Full around? Make out? They had never come out to their parents or anyone else, though James was certain Steve’s mom knew exactly what they were up to. There were just too many times they could pretend they had been just studying for a test; especially with no shirts on.

Sarah had never said anything, though, rest her soul. James contemplated asking Steve if he ever mentioned them to her, but he didn’t have the guts to.

They were adults now, and James wasn’t even sure if what happened hadn’t just been a phase for Steve. Maybe these days Steve was full on straight. They never really got past the make out sessions whenever their parents weren’t home, even though they had both come in their pants more often them not, Steve had been too self-conscious to take out more than his T-shirt, and if James were honest with himself, he hadn’t felt ready to go any further either, back then.

He wished he had lost his virginity with Steve. James couldn’t even remember the name of the other model he slept with on his second week in Moscow. She barely spoke any English and he couldn’t pronounce a single word of Russian, and they had both been drunk out of their minds.

Strangely enough, booze was something Pierce didn’t cross off James’s list of things that could go in his mouth. It probably had to do with the fact that, if he overdid it, he would just puke it and everything else out of his system before it did any lasting damage to his image. Whatever happened on the inside, as long as it stayed there, didn’t matter to Pierce.

Steve was already waiting for him when James got to Central Park. He left Rumlow to find a parking spot, thankful that Brock apparently had something against nature and open spaces and said he was going to wait in the car this time.

Steve offered him a sunny smile when James approached him. “Morning,” he greeted happily.

James groaned at Steve’s enthusiasm, though he couldn’t keep the grin out of his face. “I’ve forgotten you’re a morning person.”

“Best part of the day,” Steve stated with a nod, he looked at something behind James and then back at him. “Where’s your shadow?”

“In the car, probably with the AC up high,” he snorted. “I think the beach really did a number on him.” Rumlow had been with Pierce longer than James, he was used to the Russian weather.

“Is it bad that I’m glad? I don’t really like that guy.”

James laughed loud enough for the couple passing them by to throw him a funny look. “I don’t think anyone does.”  He sobered up and took a step closer to Steve. “Plus, it’s good to have some privacy,” James murmured.

Steve blushed. “We’re in a public place.”

James inched even closer, he had no idea where that had come from, or what he was doing. But he was on Steve’s personal space, and neither of them had broken eye contact yet.  “Don’t tell me you’re shy now, Stevie,” he teased. And then, before he knew it, James had leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on Steve’s lips, stepping away a second later.  “Come on,” he called as he walked past Steve’s startled face. “I gotta find a place to change clothes.”


	6. Chapter 6

“You kissed me.”

“Whoa, Steve, You’re so perceptive!” Bucky deadpanned.

They were both sitting under a large three, enjoying the shadow it provided. They had been in the park for hours, Steve was sure Bucky’s driver was going to come looking for him any minute now.

Stretching out, Steve kicked one of Bucky’s feet. “Stop being a jerk.” He didn’t understand what Bucky was doing. Bucky had been flirting with him; touching Steve more than it would ever be necessary for what they were doing. “Why d’you do it?”

God! Steve wanted so bad to fall back into their old ways. It would be so easy to give in. But he didn’t feel comfortable with it, not when he knew there was something wrong with Bucky.

Bucky had vanished for ten years. He came back with another name, another life. Logically, Steve knew that Bucky didn’t owe him any explanations, but he cared, goddamn it. He wanted to know that Bucky was okay, but something at the back of Steve’s mind told him Bucky was far from it.

He couldn’t take advantage of Bucky if he was in a vulnerable place. Steve had to think beyond his own desires with this. Bucky’s wellbeing came first.

“Because I wanted to,” Bucky replied with a shrug. He furrowed his brow then, looking uncertain. “You didn’t like it?”

“No, that’s not –”  Bucky’s face fell as Steve tried to stammered out his answer. “I mean, I did – I did like it. I just don’t know what you meant with it.” Steve confessed at last.

“Does it have to mean anything?” Bucky asked, still looking unsure.

“I don’t know, Buck. I—” But Steve had nothing to follow up so he closed his mouth.

“Do you regret it?” Bucky asked, bringing his shoulders forward as if he was trying to fold into himself. “What we used to do, when we were kids?”

“You asking me if I’m gay?” Steve tried to understand.

“No, I – maybe?”

“I’m bi,” Steve clarified. “Why do you want to know that?” His heart was suddenly beating a lot faster, he looked around; the fact that they were discussing this in a park, that Bucky had just kissed him here… Steve felt like he was fourteen again.

“You know, you – That was the closest thing I’ve ever had to a relationship.” Steve’s mouth opened in surprise. “It conflicts with my work.” Bucky shrugged, trying to seem dismissive but Steve could still read him.

“Pierce doesn’t let you, does he?” The words were out before Steve could think better of it.

Bucky scoffed. “You’d be surprise how restrict my contract is.”

 _I don’t really think I would_ , Steve thought, but this time he kept his mouth shut.

Steve had to be really careful now; he needed to calculate his steps so that Bucky wouldn’t shut him out. “Bucky, we’re still friends, right?” Bucky nodded. “Do you still trust me?”

“I—” Bucky averted his gaze. It would be easy for him to deny. They hadn’t seen each other in a decade; there was no reason for him to trust Steve. After a moment, Bucky looked back at him. Steve held his breath. “Yeah,” he breathed out, as if he had just realized that himself. “I trust you.”

“Good, good. ‘Cause I want you to know that I’m here for you.” Steve leaned forward, grabbing hold of one of Bucky’s hands, lacing their fingers together. “Whatever you need,” he promised, holding Bucky’s gaze.

“Steve.” Bucky was looking at him like a dear caught in the headlights, he looked so fragile that Steve wanted to hug him.  He was about to, when a voice behind them made him stop in his tracks.

“You done, yet?” Rumlow snarled.

Bucky let go of Steve’s hand and Steve watched Rumlow’s face as the man’s eyes followed the movement.

Bucky got up, dusting his pants as he shot an annoyed glare at Rumlow. “Have I told you you look good today, Brock?” He asked as he walked past his driver. “Oh, no, wait. That’s me.” Steve didn’t suppress his amused snort. Rumlow narrowed his eyes at him. And, without breaking his step, Bucky turned his face back to look at Steve. “See you later, Rogers.” Bucky winked at him and Steve’s stomach did a backflip.

Rumlow glared at him for another second before turning to go after Bucky.

Steve wanted nothing more than to go after them and beg Bucky to come with him, but he knew better. Bucky had just confirmed he trusted Steve, he would open up to Steve soon, and then Steve would be able to help him.

For now he just resigned to the unsurprising fact that he still loved Bucky Barnes.

\---

When Steve asked Natasha what she knew about Alexander Pierce she suggested that he should talk to Thor.

“The underwear model?” Steve had asked, even though he was pretty sure that he didn’t know anyone else named Thor. _Thor_ probably wasn’t named that either, famous people liked changing names to something that fitted better with their status. “Why?”

“Word has it, Pierce tried to contract him more than once before he signed in with Stark,” Nat had explained.

And that was how he found himself on the backstage of a Calvin Klein photoshoot.

Steve had seen photos of Thor, plenty of them. He had never heard the guy talk, though. And the thick Australian accent caught him by surprise. It was pretty hot. “That bloke Pierce tried to get me to sign the craziest contract I’ve ever seen.”

“How so?” Steve asked, He had either gotten lucky or he owed Tony Stark a favor, but either way, he got a chance to talk to Thor for a few minutes before the photoshoot.

“He wanted total ownership of everything. It basically said he owned me. I almost walked out of his office after reading the first page but I was curious to see how far he’d go.” Thor snorted. “The food restriction alone, man.”

“Food restriction?” Steve frowned.

“He gets a say in what comes in and out of the body. I mean, he had a whole diet drawn up already, and the contract basically stated that if I strayed from that he gets to make me spill it out.”

“Like puking?”

Thor shrugged. “I don’t know, man. It was all disguised in a bunch of technical jargon, but it made his role in it pretty clear. Anyway, I signed with Iron Man right after. If you’re interesting in the business, that’s your agency.”

Steve had to snort at that. “Nah, thanks, but no, thanks.”

Steve’s good humor stayed at Thor’s dressing room as he left.

He couldn’t help but wonder why Bucky had signed something like that of his free will. Then he looked at Thor, Steve didn’t know much about people in the fashion business but he was friends with Nat and she knew Stark, and so every once in a while Steve heard stories about the models. And he had heard about Thor. The guy had been filthy rich before he even stepped on a runaway.

Bucky had come from nothing. It wouldn’t have been difficult to lure him in with promises. Sam’s voice came on Steve’s head. Steve knew he wasn’t stupid, but Bucky hadn’t been more than a kid when Pierce approached him.

Sam’s theory was getting more and more solid by de minute.

\---

“Ugh, I can’t,” Steve groaned, ripping of yet another page from his notebook. It was the sixth. James was counting.

Steve had said he wanted to another portrait at the suite, so there they were again. Although James had a slight suspicion that what Steve really wanted was to spend to some time alone, far away from Brock.

James had to admit, he really liked the way Steve thought.

Right now, though. Steve hadn’t done anything other than shuffled James’ limbs around as he ordered him to sit here and there; only to change his mind two minutes later. It was driving James half out of his mind.

“What?” he snapped a little harder than he intended. Steve didn’t even seem to notice.

“I’m blocked!” Steve whined, running a hand through his hair, making a complete mess of it. He looked really adorable.

“Like, writer’s block?  I thought that was a, well, writer’s thing.”

“Nah, every artist gets it, from time to time. You just,” he sighed, “just _can’t_.” Steve closed the notebook and sat it on the couch before getting up. “I gotta stretch my legs a bit.”

James’ shoulders slumped. He had been hoping for… he didn’t wasn’t sure what, but he’d been hoping for something; especially after their talk in the park. He also really didn’t want to go back to Pierce’s just yet **.**

“Let’s go!” Steve said as he put back his jacket.

James was pretty sure the relief he was feeling showed on his face, but he didn’t care. He grinned up at Steve. “Where?”

“Just for a walk. It’s nice out there, maybe I’ll get inspired.”

“And if you don’t you can always buy me ice cream,” James joked, getting his backpack from behind the couch where his clothes were, and heading to the adjacent restroom to change.

 He was just kidding, of course. Pierce would have his hide if James went out of his diet. He hadn’t had ice cream in over three years, though. It _was_ tempting. Especially since Steve didn’t know about his restrictions. But _every ounce of fat showed_ , Pierce had hotwired that into James’ brain a long time ago.

The recovery process from his liposuction surgery two years back was still fresh in his mind. James didn’t want to have to go through that again. Not that he had ever wanted that in the first place, but even though James’ body was his work, he wasn’t the boss and he had to do as he was told.

It was better to just keep away from temptation.

That aside, though. The thought of sneaking out with Steve was a thrilling one. James remembered way too well what their little adventures use to lead to. At first, just a lot of trouble and at least one bloody nose, and then, well, something a lot more satisfying.

They managed to bypass Rumlow completely, which already made the whole thing totally worth it.

“Where’re we going?” James asked again once they were out on the street, a few blocks away from the hotel.  He panicked for a moment, thinking that Steve might be taking them to Brooklyn again.

But Steve just shrugged. “I don               ‘t really have a destination in mind. Why? Is there somewhere you wanna go?”

James contemplated the question. He hadn’t been back in New York since last year’s fashion week, but hadn’t been allowed to go out. He hadn’t really _seen_ New York since he was a teenager. He suddenly felt homesick.

“Let’s just walk around for a bit,” he decided.

“Sure thing, Buck,” Steve said with a grin.

Steve held out his hand and James took it without hesitation.

\---

“Hey,” Steve said once they were back at the hotel. Even though they had privacy in the suit, they couldn’t afford to take too long out, lest Brock could come looking for James. “We didn’t get your ice cream.” He sounded so miserable about it, James’ heart ached.

The second they were out of the hotel and had decided to just walk around, they had started to talk about something or another. James couldn’t remember the last time he had a talked that much.

James hadn’t felt that light in a long, long time. He had completely forgotten about the ice cream joke.

“Don’t worry about it.” He waved a hand to dismiss Steve’s worry. “I was joking,” James admitted, “I can’t have ice cream.” He patted his flat stomach, absently realizing they wouldn’t be doing any work today.

“Why not?” Steve’s brow furrowed.

James rolled his eyes. “’Cause I’d get fat, dummy,” he said lightheartedly.

“Don’t be dramatic, Buck,” Steve said, sitting down on the bed next to James.

“Tell that to my boss. Every ounce of fat shows,” he quoted.

Steve looked horrified. “That’s absurd,” he protested.  “He can’t just say what you can or cannot eat.”

It wasn’t that Steve was stupid; he just didn’t know how this business worked. James would have to explain it to him.

“Look, I know Alexander can be a handful. Believe me I've been working for him for years."

"That's the point I don't get it. Why don’t you just leave? It’s clear you don’t like him, I can see it in your face.” Steve took a deep breath. “Do you even like what you do?” He asked softly.

“What else would I do, Steve?” James asked instead of answering. “I don’t even have a high school diploma," he confessed. He had been so close to one when his life felt apart around him. He couldn’t even remember what he wanted to do after school.

"You could get one, is not like you don’t have the money," Steve said, like it was that simple. James didn’t want to get mad at him, Steve didn’t know… God, but it was frustrating to watch him sit there and try to fix James’ life for him.

"Who says I do?” he shot back. “I don’t know if you noticed, Steve, but James _Winter_ doesn't really exist. A ghost can’t have assets."

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I have zero things under my name,” he admitted, forcing himself to hold Steve’s gaze.

James had been a runaway, his name was in the system as a missing child, and the only way for him to start a new life was if he used a fake one. But he couldn’t open a bank account with that, so he let Alexander take care of the technicalities, and any money James made went straight to Pierce.

It didn’t bother him, he could ask for whatever he wanted and Alexander would provide it to him, he didn’t have to keep the cash under his bed like in the Red Room.

“What will you do when you retire, then? You not gonna be young forever.”

One of Steve’s pencils had fallen to the floor next to the bed when Steve put his things back in the backpack, before they went out and it was still there. James bent down to take it and gave it to Steve.

“Thanks,” Steve mumbled.

James snatched the pencil from Steve's hand. "Try to take it back?"

“What?” Steve shot him a confused look.

“Try to take it back,” he repeated, holding the pencil out for Steve.

Steve went for it and in a swift motion James retreated his hand and used the other to pin Steve to the bed, his forearm against Steve's throat as he straddled Steve's hips **.**

“What the hell!” Steve squeaked as squirmed under James.

James got off of him and sat with his back against the headboard. "Did you ever notice Rumlow?”

“Kinda hard not to,” Steve said as he sat next to James.

“Yeah,” James nodded. “He’s not an ugly fella, right?” He hated to have to say that, but it was true. Brock was an asshole, but he was far from looking like one.

Steve shrugged. "I guess, I never really paid a lot of attention to him. Why?"

"He was just like me. When Pierce met him.” Telling Brock’s story – the little James knew about it – was easier than talking about his own. And James knew just how much Steve was dying to know what happened to him all these years. “He was around the same age I was and Pierce helped him. And when he was no longer a pretty flower, Alexander found him another way to be useful."

“That’s what you’re gonna do?” Steve frowned. “Be his bodyguard?” He said it as if the idea was absurd. James didn’t think it was; it actually made a lot of sense to him. People were always selling themselves some way or another. He had to make ends meet after all. He would still need food and housing long after he left fashion.

“I'll be whatever Pierce wants me to be, if I want to keep a roof over my head." _Or my head over my shoulders_ , James thought. They had never been friends, so James had never thought to ask Brock, but he wondered – atop of everything else – if anyone had ever said no to Peirce.

“Bucky, you don’t have to live like that,” Steve said, looking at James with big, sad eyes.

James didn’t want Steve feeling sorry for him, but knowing that Steve cared though, that made his heart beat faster. He turned on the bed to face Steve and, leaning forward, planted a kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth.

Steve sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned into the touch.

“I wish – I wish I had been there when you needed me,” Steve whispered, looking defeated.

Later James would spend some time wondering how Steve knew he had needed him. Never in his life would James want Steve to set a foot in the Red Room, but if he could have had Steve with him when he was lost…

James wondered how his life would have turned out. A lot better, he imagined. A lot less money too, but that hardly matter when the money wasn’t really his to begin with. But they would have been together. James would have been there to hold Steve’s hand at Sarah’s funeral.

They could have made a life that would be just theirs.

He hadn’t realized he’d been crying until Steve brought a hand up to his cheek to softly swift a tear away with his thumb.

James rested his forehead on Steve’s and breathed him in.

“I’m sorry I ran away,” he apologized, closing his eyes and letting his tears fall freely, knowing Steve wouldn’t get mad at him for crying.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come after you.”  Steve’s breath was hot against his face; James leaned even closer to him and Steve brought his hands to rest at James’ hips.

He shook his head, softly not to disturb their position. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Steve tightened his grip on him. “Please don’t leave me again,” he begged. There was no pride in his voice and it hurt James more than anything. Steve never begged.

James squeezed his eyes shut as a new set of tears made their way down his face. He couldn’t promise that. He couldn’t possibly promise that, not when his life wasn’t his to take.

Instead of replying he used one of his knees to support him as the other one circled Steve’s hips to land on the other side, straddling him. This time Steve didn’t protest James being a top of him.

James opened his eyes, only to drown in the sea that were Steve’s. Steve wasn’t crying but his eyes were shinning with all the pain behind them. James felt a pang on his chest. All that because of him. He didn’t deserve this.

Steve certainly deserved better.

Steve deserved happiness, and James would make whatever little he could to give him that.

He kissed Steve, not just a little peck this time. Steve heisted for all of a second before he was using his hands at James’ back to push him flush against his chest.

James used his tongue to open Steve’s mouth. Steve opened up without resistance and a shiver went down James’ body. It had been ten years. Steve was certainly a lot better at this but that wasn’t really what caught James by surprise.

It was the fact that he still desired Steve, just as much as he did when he was sixteen. He wanted to kiss every inch of Steve’s skin; he wanted to take him apart under him hands.

Putting the smallest of distances between them to sneak his hand between their bodies James ran his hand up and down Steve’s front. The man was all muscle and James twitched in his pants a little.

His hand stopped when he felt the lump of Steve’s pacemaker. “Does it hurt?” he breathed out against Steve’s lips, quickly sliding his hand away from it just in case.

“No,” Steve said, grabbing James’ hand and placing it back above his chest. It wasn’t where Steve’s heart was but James could felt the beating. He stared at where his hand was until Steve stole his attention by sucking lightly at James’ neck.

“Don’t leave marks,” he said, as he stretched out to give Steve more access.

“Don’t leave me,” Steve asked again, but he slowed down and began to plant wet kissed on James’ collarbone. James moaned softly, grinding his groin down on Steve’s.

Steve groaned. “You really want to make me feel fourteen again,” he complained, but didn’t let go of James’ neck.

Surging forward, James grabbed Steve’s earlobe between his teeth. He let out a breathy laugh when he felt Steve’s reaction. “Gonna go in your pants, Stevie?”

A low growl came from Steve’s throat as James’ world went spinning for a second, and the next thing he knew he was lying on his back; Steve smiling smugly on top of him.

Steve had a blush that disappeared down his shirt; his lips were red and a shiny. And for the first time in ten years James felt like Bucky again.

The ring of the telephone on the nightstand startled them both.

Steve sat back on his heels and James lurched himself forward to reach the headset.

“What?” He spat, really not carrying who was on the other line.

“Mr. Winter.” The receptionist. “Sorry to disturb you, sir. But Mr. Rumlow would like to know if you will be ready to go in twenty minutes.”

James sighed; looking from Steve’s disappointed face to the visible bulge on his jeans. “Tell _Mr. Rumlow_ he can’t rush art. I’ll be ready when I am.” He slammed the phone back on the hook, knowing full well Mr. Rumlow’s _would like to know_ was the receptionist’s euphemism to _tell him to come down already, or else_.

“You gotta go.” It wasn’t even a question and Steve sounded so small. James scooted next to him and kissed his forehead.

“I’m sorry.”

“Bucky, what are we doing?”

James pointedly looked from their fading erections, to the messy bed and then back to Steve’s face. “I think we were about to have sex.”

“Yeah, but should we?” Steve looked uncertain and James’ heart fell.

“You don’t want to.” He certainly looked like he did a minute ago. But then again, James hadn’t asked, he just assumed. He should have asked. Maybe Steve had just been caught in the heat of the moment. Maybe he didn’t—

“Bucky.” Steve gently held his chin up so that James would look at him. “I did.” He smiled softly. “I still do.” James’ heart was beating again; he let out a shaky breath. “But I – I want to know what happened to you. I have a, a bad feeling. And it makes me feel like I might be taking advantaged.”

James snorted. “You’re not.” He knew a lot about being taken advantage of. What Steve was doing was a far cry from it. Besides, James should be the one apologizing for this. He was leading Steve on. Twice Steve had asked him to not leave him, just now. And James still hadn’t given him an answer.

He couldn’t stay. This job would be over soon and Pierce would drag him somewhere else. James knew that, yet he couldn’t bring himself to tell Steve.

He got off the bed and started picking up his things, doing his best not to look at Steve. “I gotta go.”

“Buck—”

 “I hope you choose another private setting for the next one.”

“James!”

James flinched. Steve never called him that. He stopped what he was doing and glanced back at Steve.

“Will you ever let me in?” Steve was built like a house, and yet, not even when he was a kid he had ever looked so small.

“I don’t want you to see what’s inside,” James finally confessed, before softly closing the door after him.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve was buzzling with energy. Not just because Bucky and he had almost… God! They had almost had sex. But Steve couldn’t think about that right now. He had finally made a crack on Bucky’s armor.

Steve finally got him to admit that something was wrong. Now he just needed to find out what. He knew Alexander Pierce was the root of the problem, but Steve needed to know how far his influence on Bucky went. Pretty deep, he guessed, if Bucky couldn’t even have ice cream without his say-so.

Whatever hold Pierce had on Bucky, Steve was ready to break it with his own bare hands. He just needed to be careful not to hurt Bucky in the process.

He chose another random high class hotel for his next painting. He was beyond carrying about this job anymore. He only felt bad because Nat, Clint, and hell, even Fury, had trusted him to do a good job, while Steve was only worried about Bucky.

He already had the pictures, though. He would do his best to reproduce them on his canvases once his head was in the right place. Steve wouldn’t fail his friends, he wouldn’t. But right now, Bucky came first.

“You’re awfully distracted tonight.” Peggy’s voice cut its way through Steve’s thoughts and he blinked himself back to the present.

He had almost said no when she invited him to have dinner, there was so much going on right now, but nowadays Peggy’s visits were few and far between – her being too busy with her classify job for the British government –  for him to decline.

Steve looked at her and smiled softly at what he saw. She was so beautiful, especially when she was happy. And Peggy had been exuberant ever since she announced her wedding few months ago via Skype.

There had been a time, back in college, when Steve had been sure he would be the future Mr. Carter. It didn’t work like that for them, though. And they had a sad, but friendly break up right before Peggy went back to England.

“I’m leaving tomorrow, otherwise I’d love to help you with whatever it is that’s making you frown like that.” She smiled sympathetically at him.

“It’s Bucky,” Steve confessed. Peg was his only friend who knew about Bucky, and how much he meant to Steve.

He quick summarized the roller-coaster that had been the past week and Peggy listened with a hand over his on the table, rubbing circles on the back of Steve’s hand with her thumb.

When he finished she actually smiled at him brighter. “I might be able to help you after all, Steve,” Peggy said, aching a perfect eyebrow at him. “I can run Pierce’s name through my systems, see if anything comes up.”

“You’d do that for me?” Steve asked incredulous, not because he doubted Peggy’s friendship, not for a second. But what she was suggesting was probably, if not completely, illegal. The last thing he wanted was to get her in trouble on his account. He shook his head. “I can’t ask you that.”

“Good, because you’re not asking.” She smirked and Steve reminded himself to never introduce her to Natasha. Together they would make both him and Clint go gray before their time. “I’m doing it. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, accepting her help. She wouldn’t back down – Steve knew, because he wouldn’t either, they were too much a like – there was no point dragging the argument. “But tell me,” Steve began, changing the subject. Peggy was leaving tomorrow and they barely talked about anything other than Steve’s own problems. He felt guilt that he had been neglecting his best girl. “How’s your man? Last time I saw Souza he was still getting used to the new leg.”

Peggy had a fond smile on her face when Steve glanced up at her. “He’s running around, Steve.” She clapped her hands, letting out a delighted giggle. “He fell flat on his face twice, but he’s really happy with the prosthetic.” She glanced challengingly at Steve. “You’ll see how well he’ll be walking down the aisle.”

Steve raised his beer, part in salute, part in surrender. “Looking forward to it,” he said with a grin before bringing the glass to his lips.

\---

It had been a while since Alexander had requested James to have breakfast with him, so when Renata woke him up this morning James was a little surprised.

He hated surprises.

Pierce had a full breakfast on the table in front of him when James met him, but James knew better than to reach for anything that weren’t the jugs of water or fresh orange juice. He gulped a full glass of water, and then filled it to the half with juice.

“James,” Pierce waited until James looked up at him to continue, though not before carefully folding his newspaper in half and placing it on the coffee table. “Do you love Steven?”

The juice James had just taken a sip of went through the wrong pipe, and he coughed for a full minute before being able to speak again. “What?” He rubbed at his neck, wondering if somehow Steve’s lips had left their marks there, even though he had already checked that his skin was clear.

“You’re in love with the artist.” It wasn’t a question this time.

“Ale–” James started but Pierce cut him.

“I told you before,” he said with a raised hand that meant James should shut up and listen. “I really don’t care who you sleep with.” Alexander paused to take a sip of his coffee. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with your work.”

“Steve’s not –” A single look from Alexander and James closed his mouth again.

“You’ve been distracted.” Alexander cocked his head to the side and studied James’ body. James had to force himself not to squirm in his chair. “You’re not working out as you used to. It shows.” The disapproval in his voice was so clear James wanted to apologize. But he knew Pierce wasn’t done. “We’re heading for Madrid once this SHIELD business is over. I don’t see us coming back to the States any time in the near future.”

James’ stomach dropped. He wasn’t going to see Steve ever again, was he? He wasn’t sure what Alexander wanted him to say, so he stayed quiet.

“Do you want to stay with that artist?” James said nothing, he didn’t even breathe. “He doesn’t seem to be doing very well for himself. I highly doubt he makes enough for two people.”

Was Pierce threatening Steve? James wasn’t sure where he was going with that. He opened his mouth, waited to see if Pierce was going to say anything, and then he finally spoke. “What happens if I stay?” His voice croaked in the end and James gulped.

“I don’t know, James. You would be breaking your contract, for one thing.” Alexander shook his head slowly. “Can you do anything other than smile and look pretty?” _Just sit there and look pretty._ James knew that Steve hadn’t meant it as an insult when he said it, but he had heard those words so many times before, all of them carrying the same meaning Pierce was implying right now. All of James’ worth was in his looks. He had no other skills, nothing useful. “Rogers is a sick man, isn’t he?” Again, Pierce didn’t wait for a reply. “I wonder how much his medications cost.”

Alexander was either threatening Steve’s life or making a point of showing how little James could offer him. Either way, it all served to make it crystal clear that James couldn’t survive without Pierce.

Alexander had only hit him once. It had been right after they moved to Moscow. Looking back at it, James couldn’t really remember the context of it. He had refused to do something and Pierce got mad. There had been some screaming, and then Alexander backhanded him across the face. It had been more humiliating than painful, and that was what made it worse.

_Pierce grabbed James’ face forcefully, his fingernails digging on the skin of James’ cheeks; it hurt a little on the side where he had been struck. And even though he could easily break free James was too stunned to even move. No adult had ever laid hand on him before._

_“You do well to remember that I_ made _what you are,” Alexander snarled on his face, before letting go of it like he had just touched something filthy. “I’d like to see how well you’d fare without me.”_

_Fear hit James harder than Pierce could ever have. He was in a different country, he didn’t speak the language and he had no money. “I wanna go home,” he asked, and hated that his voice sounded so weak._

_“You don’t have a home.”_

James never raised his voice to Alexander again after that. _Don’t bite the hand that feeds you._ Brock had told him that a few days after the incident, and James took the advice to heart.

James had years to learn how to stay out of Pierce’s bad side. But this wasn’t about him, it was about Steve.

He didn’t want Alexander thinking about Steve anymore. James knew that if he wanted, Pierce could blacklist Steve’s name with the entire artistic community in New York.

James never answered Pierce’s question about his feeling for Steve, and he didn’t intend to. But he guessed the tightness in his chest was answer enough for himself.

He took another small sip of his juice and gently placed the glass back on the table before asking, “What are we doing in Madrid?”

\---

The view from the suite Steve had chosen was breathtaking.  Outside the window Manhattan stretched out as far as the eye could see. 

Bucky was leaning on the balcony, resting his crossed arms over the railing as he looked outside to the other skyscrapers. And his body language, the way he held himself, not tense but not relaxed either told a story on its own.

It would feel like Mona Lisa, once Steve put that image on paper. Not that Steve had an ego big enough to compare himself to da Vinci, but Bucky’s image carried a mystery just the same. It would be even harder to try and read him, since his back would be turned to people.

Steve snapped a few pictures for reference. He was going to do Bucky like that, from behind.

He chuckled at his own innuendo and Bucky turned around to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What’cha laughing at?” Now that Steve was looking at him he could see how guarded Bucky was today. He hadn’t said much to Steve since they entered the room. Steve hadn’t known what to say either. He didn’t know if he should mention what had happened, what they almost did.

He decided to wait and see if Bucky would bring it up. If he didn’t, well, it was probably for the best. And Steve would swallow down his disappointment.

Steve shrugged. He could feel himself blushing slightly under Bucky’s gaze. “Funny joke I made in my head.”

“Ah, that explains why it was funny.”

“Oh, shut up,” Steve scoffed at him, even though he couldn’t keep a straight face.

It was good to joke around like that. Steve had been feeling frustrated since Peggy’s phone call last night. She told him that Pierce did have money in places he shouldn’t have, but there was nothing about Bucky on her researches.

Steve was sure Peggy had heard the disappointment in his voice as he thanked her and said his goodbyes. She was a good friend, though, and she didn't comment on it.

It was good to be around Bucky and ignore the whole mess, just for a little while.

“Stevie, be honest with me,” Bucky said, still in that teasing tone, smirking as he waked over to Steve.

“I’m always honest,” Steve protested.

“Do you really have to do these drawings with me around?” He arched an eyebrow again. Bucky was really good at doing that. “They’re paintings, aren’t they?” he continued, as he moved, slow like a feline circling the prey, closer to Steve. “Haven’t seen you with a paint brush.”

Bucky only stopped when they were toe to toe.

“The paintings take time,” Steve whispered. He didn’t know why he was whispering. “I have to prepare the canvas and –” he gulped. “I like to have some drawings for reference along with the photos I take for color reference and pose. Then I gotta –” Steve stopped when he realized he was rambling.

Bucky was smiling softly at him. “You’re adorable.” He brought a hand up to rest at the base of Steve’s neck. “We should enjoy our time together.” Bucky rubbed his thumb over the skin behind Steve’s ear. “Make the most of it.”

Steve closed his eyes, leaning into Bucky’s touch. “Because our time is limited?” he asked, hating that he already knew what Bucky would say.

He felt Bucky’s lips on his cheek and slowly opened his eyes again. Bucky’s face was too close; Steve couldn’t get a read on him.

“I’m not gonna lie to you.”

“Not gonna tell me the truth, either,” Steve concluded. He could read between the lines, and he hated what he found. He didn’t want a goodbye, and every time Bucky refrain from answering Steve’s pleas for him to stay? That sounded too much like a farewell to his liking.

“Steve,” Bucky warned. He looked pained. “Can we just have this?” He rested his face on Steve shoulder. “Please.” Bucky’s breath was hot on his neck, it was distracting and Steve had to admit, he didn’t really know what Bucky wanted from him.

“What’re you asking?”

Bucky moved his head, taking a step back to look Steve in the eye. “I’m asking you to stop making questions.” He shook his head, and when Steve briefly glanced down he saw that Bucky’s hands were tight fists. “Fucking stop wanting to know what’s wrong with me, Steve,” Bucky yelled on his face. Steve held his ground, letting him lash out. “Fucking stop trying to fix me!”

He looked up, breathing hard through his mouth and exhaling shakily. A second later it seemed like the fight had left him.

“Please, Steve,” he pleaded again. “Just for today.”

It was yet another crack on Bucky’s armor. The shell around Bucky was thinning out, whether he realized it or not, Bucky was starting to show to Steve what was inside. And what Steve saw was squeezing his heart right out of his chest.

Bucky was so scared of… something. Steve hadn’t figured that out yet. But the fear was there, now that he knew what to look for, Steve could see it clearly.

 _What happened to you, Buck?_ Steve thought. “Okay,” Steve said instead. His eyes were stinging. He’d done this to Bucky, too. He kept poking around and he was hurting Bucky more than he was helping him.

He took a step forward and Bucky met him half way. For a moment they just stood there, in the middle of the fancy hotel, holding one another as if their lives depended on it.

Bucky broke their stillness as he started kissing Steve’s jawline.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked; only to bite down on his lip to shut himself up a second later.

“Shhh. You promised.” Bucky kissed his way to Steve’s mouth. Steve didn’t hesitate in letting him in. Bucky kissed him languidly, moving slow and deliberated. Steve almost melted against him. “You only tell me to stop if you _don’t_ want this,” Bucky all but growled over Steve’s lips. “I don’t wanna hear about what you _think_ it’s best for me, Rogers. If you care about me at all, today you’ll respect what I want.”

Steve groaned low in his throat. All these requests made him feel like Bucky was slipping right through his fingers. But he would not think about himself now. He would be damn if Bucky was going to leave this room thinking Steve didn’t care about him.

Bringing his hands to Bucky’s hip, Steve manhandled him until the back of Bucky’s knees hit the bed. He stopped then, leaving for Bucky to make the next call.

Bucky sat down and Steve knelt in front of him. Bucky brought his arms to rest on Steve’s shoulders, running all of his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“You’re so fucking pretty, Stevie.” Steve ducked his head, chuckling softly as he felt his cheeks starting to heat up. “Hey.” Bucky grabbed the back of Steve’s neck and forced him to look up.  “Don’t be shy about it,” he said with a smile, while he kept caressing Steve’s hair.

For a moment all Steve could do was stare at him. Bucky was beautiful, sure, but there was so much more to him than just looks. The man in front of him spoke at least three languages fluently. He was sharp as a knife, but also kind and compassioned. Bucky’s inability to turn a blind eye to people’s suffering was the whole reason they had become friends.

Bucky had saved his ass so many times before. It made Steve feel even more like a failure now that the roles were reverse.

Bucky deserved so much love.

Steve lurched himself forward knocking Bucky down on the bed. A breathy laugh escaped Bucky when Steve fell on top of him.

“You didn’t use to be this heavy,” Bucky complained, as he shifted on the bed to accommodate his legs between Steve’s knees. “You’re gonna crush me.”

Steve laughed. “I bet there are worse ways to die.”

“You gonna kill me now, punk,” Bucky asked, mercilessly tickling Steve’s side.

Steve squealed, but he didn’t make an effort to put any distance between them.

“Nah,” he finally answered once Bucky stopped long enough to allow him to breath. “I like you too much to do that.”

Bucky’s features softened, he smiled almost shyly at Steve. “That so?” Steve nodded. “Then how about you show me just how much?”

Steve was more than happy to take him up on that offer.

Supporting himself on his elbows he leaned down to capture Bucky’s mouth and claimed it for himself. Bucky’s lips parted easily for him, letting Steve’s tongue slip in and meet Bucky’s halfway.

Steve felt like his whole body was suddenly hit by electricity. He was paralyzed by desire for a moment. Bucky had always had a strong effect on him. Steve was addicted to him, to his voice, his eyes, his touch… The taste of him was enough to send Steve on a high.

Bucky brought him back to reality by snaking his hands inside Steve’s T-shirt, grabbing the hems with him to pull it over Steve’s head. Steve pulled back from Bucky far enough for Bucky to take the T-shirt off and throw it somewhere beside the bed.

“Whoa, Steve,” Bucky exclaimed, giving Steve’s chest a thorough once over. “You _are_ bigger, aren’t you,” he said with a chuckle.

Usually when people stared at Steve like that it only made him want to run or hide. Right now, though, Bucky’s admiration just made him feel good about himself; desired in a welcome way.

Bucky slowly ran his hands to Steve’s chest and every fiber on Steve’s body responded to his touch.

“You’ve always been beautiful, Steve,” Bucky continued with an adoring smile playing on his lips. “Only now your body’s finally grown big enough to fit your soul.”

Steve couldn’t take it anymore, he was blushing furiously, and he had to bend down to kiss Bucky again.

Bucky licked Steve’s lips, biting softly on the lower one as his hands began to explore Steve’s back.

Bucky arched his back and used his hand on Steve’s ass to grind them together.

Steve had no idea if the moan he heard was his or Bucky’s, but it served to make him really acknowledge what they were about to do. “Shit,” he breathed out; moving his face a few centimeters away from Bucky’s to look at him. “We don’t have anything.”

“Actually,” Bucky said with a smug expression on his face. “We do.” He tapped the side of Steve’s thigh to ask him to stand up, and when Steve got off of him Bucky walked to the couch where his satchel was, coming back seconds later with a condom and a sachet of lube.

Steve’s jaw dropped. “You just carry those around?”

Bucky shrugged, completely unfazed. “Nah, I just came prepared.” He crawled his way on the bed to where Steve was, settling himself between Steve’s legs. Hooking his arms around Steve’s neck, Bucky pulled himself against Steve, capturing his mouth.

“You came already?” Steve asked when they broke apart, trying very hard to fake disappointment.

Bucky dislodged one of his hands from Steve’s neck to smack him on the chest. “You an ass, Rogers.”

“What’s that about ass?” Steve asked, grabbing a handful of Bucky’s, who in response let out a breathy laugh against Steve’s lips.

Steve ran his hands up and down the expense of Bucky’s still fully clothed back, while Bucky explored the skin on his neck.  He bit down on Steve’s collarbone, hard enough for Steve to hiss, and then soothed out by licking the spot.

Steve groaned as Bucky started a trail of lighter bites and kisses from the base of Steve’s neck to his ear, where he stopped to nibble at the lobe, and Steve was half afraid _he_ would be the one coming too soon.

“Wanna make you feel so good, baby,” Bucky whispered on his ear, the gush of his breath sending a shiver down Steve’s spine. “Can I do that, Stevie?” Bucky purred. “Can I make you feel good?”

Back when they were teens, Bucky and he had been always kind of awkward and too embarrassed to speak too much while they dry humped against each other, too worried about getting off before their parents came home to actually enjoy what they were doing. Bucky was certainly a lot more vocal nowadays.

Steve liked that new part of him. Bucky exhaled confidence, he seemed to know exactly what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask for it. It was a welcomed change from the person Steve had been seeing these past days.  Up until now, Bucky had seemed scared to speak his mind. Steve loved that he felt secure enough right now to do so.

He pulled Bucky apart from him by the back of his head. “We need fewer clothes,” Steve explained, slightly out of breath.

Bucky giggled as he started unbuttoning the designer button down with precise fingers. “Don’t just stare at me, Rogers,” he barked when he looked up and noticed Steve was watching. “You got work to do yourself,” Bucky pointed out as he let his gaze drop to Steve’s groin.

Steve was not as well coordinated as Bucky as he undressed; forgetting to take off his boots before pulling his jeans down, and basically making a mess of himself while Bucky graciously took of each and every piece he was wearing with the grace of someone who actually knew what he was doing.

Bucky had a small, amused smile on his face when Steve finally joined him back on the bad.

He took a moment to admire Bucky’s naked body as Bucky did the same to him. Steve could barely believe, after all this time, they were here.

Bucky looked away first, impatient to get back to what they were doing. He pushed Steve down on the bed, setting himself on top of him again, his knee on each side of Steve’s legs as Bucky straddled him.

Steve grabbed Bucky by the back of the neck and pulled him down to a kiss the left them both gasping for air. He kissed Bucky until he felt he was going to pass out from lack of air. Steve wheezed a little and Bucky pulled away from Steve’s mouth.

“Let’s not die from asthma while we fuck, ‘kay,” Bucky panted against his neck. Steve suspected he already had marks there; Bucky seemed to really like that part of him.

“Fuck you,” Steve snorted god humored.

“Fuck the both of us, if we have time,” Bucky shot back, and Steve laughed until there were tears in his eyes. God! He loved Bucky!

Steve stopped on his tracks.

He loved Bucky.

“Steve?” Bucky called, casting him a confused look. “You okay?” He asked with a serious expression this time.

Steve smiled up at him. “More than,” he reassured.

“Good.” Bucky started a painfully slow trail of kiss on the base of Steve’s neck, pausing to place a chaste kiss on the scar on Steve’s chest; and looking up at Steve from his thick eyelashes. “I could have lost you.” Bucky shook his head, a little desperate. “I would never know,” he mumbled looking at Steve’s chest.

“You didn’t lose me.” It hadn’t even been that serious, Steve’s cardiologist had warned him years before that the pacemaker was a possibility. And then one day, in one of his regular checkup, Steve was told the possibility was now a requirement. Everything went smoothly, and there was practically no chance of Steve actually dying. Steve would tell all of that to Bucky some other time. His medical history was the last thing Steve wanted to discuss in the moment. He planted a kiss on Bucky’s forehead before promising, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Bucky smiled sweetly at him for a few seconds, and then resumed his task of slowly driving Steve out of his mind with those kisses that were traveling further and further south on Steve’s body, and seeming like they weren’t going to stop until they reached their destination.

Steve’s eyes followed Bucky’s movements while his body replied in accord with every touch from Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky’s hands took hold of his where they laid on the bed beside Steve’s legs.

Bucky glanced up at him as if looking for permission to move forward. The sight of him was enough for Steve to completely forget any world he had ever learned so he nodded instead. Bucky grinned triumphantly, leaning down to press a small kiss to Steve’s hipbone.

“Don’t you ever forget,” Bucky asked as he leaned down, giving the inside of Steve’s thigh another peck. “That I –” Bucky closed his eyes, letting out a sigh that had nothing to do with desire. Steve was about to ask him what was wrong, but before he could open his mouth Bucky shook himself out of whatever that was in his mind and bend his head down to take Steve in his mouth.

Steve was sure that their joined hands were the only things keeping him grounded where he was. Otherwise Steve would be floating over the bed. And yeah, it was cheesy, but Steve – almost literally – couldn’t think of anything else to describe the way Bucky made him feel.

Bucky worked him open with expert fingers, that went back to intertwine themselves with Steve’s the moment Bucky and Steve became one.

“I’d like to drag this for longer,” Bucky said against Steve’s mouth. “But we don’t have a lot of time.” He increased the pace of his thrusts to drive his point home, and Steve’s response got lost in a moan when he opened his mouth to reply.

Bucky let go of one of Steve’s hands to snake his own between their bodies, grabbing Steve in a loose fist. “Let go for me, baby,” he purred as he began to pump Steve on the same rhythm of his thrusts. “I’m here for you, Stevie,” he encouraged, twisting his wrist and making Steve see stars.

Their releases were almost synchronized, Steve going off first a few seconds before Bucky went still and then trembling on top of him. Once they came down from their highs Bucky got off of him and laid beside him, looking as boneless as Steve felt.

Steve brought a hand up to take the sweaty hair off Bucky’s face, tugging it behind his ear. And because he couldn’t resist Bucky’s adorable dopey smile, Steve leaned forward to drop a kiss on the tip of Bucky’s nose.

Bucky playfully shoved him away. “You’re such a dork.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Steve retorted.

They stared at each other with straight faces for about five seconds before breaking down laughing like a couple of middle schoolers.

When they sobered up a bit Bucky scotched closer to rest his head on Steve’s chest.

“How much time do you think we still have?” Steve asked him as he traced lazy patterns on Bucky’s back.

“Not much,” Bucky answered with a one shoulder shrug. “Less than I’d like, that’s for sure,” he added with a sigh.

Steve hated to see Bucky fall back to that defeated tone. He had promised he wouldn’t press today, but it was stronger than him, this need to know that Bucky was okay, or at least would be.

He manhandled Bucky on the bed so that they were face to face. “Do you like your job?” Steve asked after calculating how to best show his concerns.

And even then, the mere mention of his work was enough to bring all of Bucky’s guards up. “Nobody really likes their jobs, Steve,” he deflected. “We just do what we gotta do.”

“You can do so much more, though,” Steve countered. Bucky was one of the smartest people Steve had ever met. And also a fast learner. He could do whatever he set his mind into, Steve was sure. He had seen it happen, back when they were kids. “Why don’t you shoot for something else?”

Bucky snorted. “I can’t just walk away,” he protested, putting some distance between himself and Steve as he sat up.

“Course you can!” Steve countered, mirroring Bucky’s pose and resting his back on the headboard.

Bucky ruffled at his hair, making a mess of it. “No, Steve. I can’t.” He moved down on the bed, bending over to grab something on the floor. His boxers, Steve discovered as Bucky put them on. Just as Steve began to feel uncomfortable and too exposed, Bucky bent again and tossed Steve’s underwear to him. “Pierce _owns_ me!”

“He can’t own you. You’re a person!” Steve had been going over and over in his head about what led Bucky to Pierce and, more importantly, what made him stay. But what Bucky was talking about, that didn’t happen. You can’t own a person, unless you’re holding something against them.

“You don’t understand,” Bucky argued, standing up and heading to the bathroom. “I signed a contract,” he continued when he returned. “For life! I walk out, I leave with nothing. Not a damn thing. Not even my name.”

Steve got out of the bed and made a quick trip to the bathroom to wipe the dry come from his belly and splash some water on his face.

“What name?” He shouted from the bathroom. “Winter? That’s not even your name! And I’m pretty sure the kind of thing you’re talking about is illegal.” Slavery. That was another way to own someone. But that was... well, Steve wasn’t naïve enough to say it was completely over, but Bucky was too much of a public face. That kind of thing only happened when it did because it was far away from the eyes of society, far from people’s attention.

Bucky’s job put him on a perpetual spotlight.

Steve studied his reflection on the mirror above the sink. He looked tired. He _was_ tired. Drying his face with probably more strength than necessary, Steve walked back to the bedroom and found Bucky already dressed, lacing his shoes.

“You’re right, I don’t understand,” Steve conceded, trying to placate the situation. He wanted Bucky to trust him, to open up to him. Steve had to let his own guard down. “What does this man have on you?” he asked as he started to pick his own clothes from the floor. “You don’t seem to like him very much and yet –”

“Steve, I was a step away from prostitution. Pierce saved me!” Bucky finally shouted.

Steve stopped on his tracks, his jeans half way his thighs. “What?” Jesus! Sam’s theory. Steve didn’t want to believe; he wanted to believe that whatever kept Bucky away from him for so long was something good. That Bucky hadn’t come back because he had something better, not because… “Why didn’t you –“

“Come to you?” Bucky completed, shaking his head. “Your mom would’ve turned me back to the system.”

“Not my mom. _Me_. Why didn’t you come to me?”  Steve knew his mother would’ve done the right thing and taken Bucky back to the foster house, which Steve still didn’t know why Bucky left in the first place. But that Bucky didn’t trust _him_ to keep a secret and help? That hurt Steve more than anything.

“Steve you were a child,” Bucky reasoned with him, glancing at Steve with sad eyes. He sat on the arm of the sofa, his shoulders hunched as his gaze dropped to his feet.

“Why d’you leave?” Steve mumbled. He knew what Bucky was saying made sense, but he still didn’t like it. He wanted Bucky to know that he could count on Steve.

Bucky inhaled sharply, keeping his head down. “It’s not even a sob story, nothing bad happened to me at the house I was staying but… fuck,” he sighed. “I was a kid, okay. I didn’t know any better and, Steve.” He looked up then, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I grew up with my own bedroom, my own house. And then, I was thrown in the middle of all those kids. There weren’t even enough beds. I – I hated there.”

Steve could understand him then. Bucky hadn’t been more than a kid, and he was grieving. Suddenly, his running away didn’t feel too absurd.  He was just a sixteen year-old, scared and alone.

“I, I found a job. But it wasn’t very nice and then,” Bucky’s voice faltered and he stopped to clear his throat. “Pierce was the one who got me out of The Red Room.”

“The Red Room?” Bucky nodded. Steve couldn’t help but snort. “That sounds like a –”

“That’s exactly what that is,” Bucky confessed, looking down again.

The amused smirk left Steve’s face in a second. “Oh God,” he breathed out as he finally finished to put on his clothes.

Bucky’s head snapped up. “Steve, I didn’t,” he began, shaking his head frenetically as his tears finally started to fall. “I never, I’d never sell myself like that. You have to believe me. I wouldn’t.” A sob escaped Bucky’s lips, and he covered his face with both hands, breaking down in front of Steve.

Steve was with him in a second, holding Bucky close. He was sure there was an invisible hand squeezing his heart, for a moment Steve thought that maybe the pacemaker was failing him. “Hey, it’s okay. I believe you. It’s okay.” He kept repeating those words like a mantra on Bucky’s ear.

Bucky cried silently for a few minutes and Steve felt like there was a hole on his chest. Did Pierce really saved Bucky? Did he do what Steve should have? Bucky had yet to explain the circumstances, and how did he come to meet Pierce, but still.

Should Steve be grateful for Alexander Pierce?

The things Thor had said to him were on the verge of illegal, and Bucky’s own words about how he was tied up to Pierce were enough for Steve not to thrust the man, but maybe, maybe Bucky’s and Thor’s situations were different, and they had different agreements with Pierce.

Steve’s eyes were stinging; he blinked several times to try and keep himself from crying.  Maybe _he_ was the one hurting Bucky unnecessarily, making him remember the worst part of his life.

A few seconds later Bucky finally looked up at him, he wasn’t crying anymore but he still looked devastated. “I gotta go,” he said with a sniff.

“Bucky,” Steve began to protest but stopped when Bucky’s cellphone began to ring.

Bucky ignored it as he got up and went to the bathroom. He came back from it a minute later, looking more put together. Meanwhile, the ring of his cellphone gave way to the landline by the bed.

Neither Steve nor Bucky made any motion to pick it up. Rumlow could wait another five minutes.

“Buck,” Steve started again.

“I’ve told you everything,” Bucky cut him, grabbing his satchel and pulling it over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Steve mumbled feeling himself blush. “You asked me not to push, and I didn’t respect your wishes.”

“It’s okay, Stevie.” Bucky walked over to where Steve was and planted a dry kiss over his lips, so quick Steve didn’t even have a chance to close his eyes before Bucky was pulling away. “I’ll see you in our next session.”

Steve nodded and Bucky was gone before Steve could ask him again to stay.


	8. Chapter 8

He didn’t tell Steve everything, he didn’t tell Steve about what he did in the Red Room, or how wrapped up he was on Pierce’s contract.

James skimmed over his own story, because telling the truth to Steve was not an option. It put Steve in danger. James just knew he wouldn’t let it go, Steve would want to do something to _free_ him from Alexander, and he would hurt himself in the process.

James dropped himself heavily on the bed once Rumlow got him back to Pierce’s.  He bit his lip, thinking back to the afternoon. He had almost told Steve he loved him, but stopped himself just in time. He couldn’t do that to Steve, not when he was going to leave as soon as the job with SHIELD was done.

It would be cruel. Steve deserved better. He deserved someone who wouldn’t lie to him; someone who wouldn’t sell their freedom not to sell their bodies. Steve deserved someone who didn’t even have to make a choice like that.

He got off the bed, and went to the closet to find his father’s jacket where he hid it under a pile of expansive clothes James couldn’t care less about.

The only things that held any importance to him amongst everything he had accumulated in his life so far were the ones he was holding on his hands.

James sat cross legged on the floor and searched his father’s jacket until he found the small, old piece of paper. He unfolded it carefully not to damage the fragile material.

Steve had shoved that piece of paper on his hands right before James – Bucky; that was the last moment in his life that he had felt like Bucky – left his old life behind.

You couldn’t see their faces, just two mops of hair more or less at the same level, because Bucky was squatting a bit against the three.

Steve had done that in a hurry, James could see the lines of pencil he had traced one over the other instead of erasing the ones he got wrong. It was still perfect, though, and it was the only piece of home – along with his dad’s jacket – that James still had.

He had kept it hidden in case someone tried to take it from him.  

Now that he had found Steve again, he’d thought… maybe he wouldn’t need them as much. But he was wrong. Soon, Steve would be a memory again, and James would have to rely on those old objects to remind him he once had a home.

James put the drawing back in the jacket and the jacket back in the closet. He wanted nothing more than to sleep holding it close to his chest, pretending he could still smell his father’s cologne on the old leather, but he didn’t want to risk Pierce or  Rumlow coming to the room and finding it.

He still smelled like Steve, though, and that was enough to lull him to a peaceful sleep.

\---

The Red Room.

Steve couldn’t stop thinking about his conversation with Bucky.

Bucky seemed terrified of the place, but he didn’t tell Steve much about it.  From what he _did_ say, though, it was either a strip club or a brothel. And both options made Steve want to punch something.

Steve had never heard of the place before, but he was pretty sure he knew someone who did. He dialed Clint’s number and didn’t bother with greetings before jumping right to what he wanted to know.

“The Red Room?” Clint asked and Steve confirmed. “It’s a strip club. Wait a minute, you’re telling me James Winter, is the Winter Soldier?” Clint chuckled. “There’s a joke there, somewhere.”

“The what?” Steve asked, ignoring his last statement.

“The Winter Soldier,” Clint repeated. “Buddy of mine worked as a bouncer at the Red Room, told me that for a while there, all people talked about was the Winter Soldier. Some sort of striper, or something. Said all the guys went crazy when he was on stage. But that was a long time ago.”

“How long?”

Clint shrugged. “Ten years, give or take. I had just left the army, so I remember it was around the same time, ‘cause my buddy asked if I wanted to bounce at The Room. I didn’t go, though. So I never actually saw the Soldier.”

_I’d never sell myself like that._

Steve would never judge Bucky even if he _had_ , but knowing that he didn’t have to submit himself to that made Steve breathe a little easier.

It seemed like he _did_ owe Alexander Pierce a thank you.

Steve thanked Clint for the information and sent his regards to Nat before hanging up.

He had a plan to put in motion. Steve contemplated calling Sam to go with him, but he didn’t think it was fair involving Sam in his mess. It could be a dangerous place, after all.

Steve glanced at his watch. He could go right now. That kind of place only opened at night and would probably be at its peak at the moment. But he decided against it once his eyes spotted the amount of work he had waiting for him on his desk.

He spent the afternoon having sex and them arguing with Bucky, finally getting a peak at what was under Bucky’s mask. It was a good day for Steve’s personal life, but not much for his business one, and he did have a deadline around his corner.

Steve settled himself to work on his paintings. He was going to show the world what he saw when he looked at the man they called James Winter.  Steve had googled the name and came up with lots of international photoshoots in which Bucky looked stunning but not even alive, not when you knew how much sparkle those eyes could have. Steve could change that, and he was going to.

He was ready to show the world Bucky Barnes.

\---

The Red Room _was_ red, from the walls to the lightening. It made it hard to see people’s faces. In addition to that the place smelled like sweat, cheap alcohol and sex. The stale air was making it hard for Steve to breathe.

He wanted to get out of the place as soon as possible, so when he spotted a shirtless waiter coming in his direction, trying to balance a tray over the heads of the several men watching and drooling over the guy pole dancing on the main stage, Steve had an idea.

Steve moved to be right in the middle of the way just as the waiter passed and the bottle of Campari – because of course even the drinks had to be red – dropped on the tray, spilling the liquid all over Steve’s white shirt.

Steve looked from his soaked shirt to the face of the waiter, and even with the bad lightening Steve could see the kid – the boy couldn’t be over eighteen – was pale as a ghost.

“I, I’m so sorry,” the kid began to stammer. Steve put a hand on his shoulder and the boy flinched away as if Steve had just tried to hit him. He probably thought Steve would.

“Hey, don’t sweat,” Steve tried to put the kid at ease. “Just let me talk to the manager.”

“But –” The waiter’s eyes were huge and Steve was afraid he was going to pass out.

“I won’t tell it was you,” Steve reassured him. “I can’t even see your face. Just let me talk to him, he owes me another shirt.” The kid began to fumble for something on his pocket. “Or a free lap dance,” Steve added quickly when he saw the dollar bills on the waiter’s hand.

The kid still looked unsure to whether he should take Steve to his boss or pay Steve himself, but after a few minutes under Steve’s _I’m not mad, just disappointed_ look (thanks, Sam), the waiter finally folded and gestured for Steve to follow him.

Vasily Karpov’s – the plate on the door said his name was – office was as disgusting as the rest of his establishment. But it also had air conditioning and Steve’s lungs appreciated the slightly fresher air. 

“Which one of those idiots did that?” Karpov asked as soon as Steve stepped in his office. He had told the kid to get lost before coming in, and Karpov didn’t look very bother to have a costumer coming in unannounced.

Instead of answering Steve took from his pocket a photo of Bucky at fifteen and shoved it on Vasily Karpov’s face. “What do you know about this kid?”

Karpov swatted Steve’s hand away. “Never seen,” he lied. Steve could tell it by the way Karpov’s large forehead began to shine with sweat. “Get the fuck out,” Karpov spat.

Steve held his ground. “I could do that. But I was just wondering if some of your employees were as young as the kid in this picture.” Steve cooked his head to the side, a smirk on his lips. “Fifteen, by the way,” he commented, enjoying the way Karpov shrunk into himself with every word out of Steve’s lips. “Not even old enough to consent.” Bile rose in his throat when Steve said that. He wanted to tear this place apart, and that had nothing to do with Bucky.

“They’re older than that,” Karpov confessed, completely missing the point Steve was trying to make.

“You’re wrong either way, _Vasily_ ,” Steve spat out like the name was poison on his tongue.

“I could just kill you,” Karpov threatened with a shaky voice, and Steve probably would have believed him, if he had said that at the beginning of this conversation. Karpov wasn’t high enough in the chain of command of whatever organization or gang owned the Red Room, he couldn’t make that kind of decision on his own.

“How about you just tell me what I want to know and I’ll be out of your hair,” Steve said. “You’ll never have to see me again.” He brought the picture back to Karpov’s eye level. “You know who this is, don’t you?”

“Tha-that’s the Winter Soldier,” Karpov stuttered, realizing Steve wouldn’t go anywhere until he said something. He was measuring Steve, finally noticing he wouldn’t have the upper hand, not when he was clearly overweight, and – by the red around his eyes – a little high too, Steve suspected. “He’s not around anymore.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at him. “He’s dead?”

Karpov shook his big head in a fast motion that probably made his brain rattled. “Promoted, I guess. It was a long time ago.”

“You know his name?” Steve was confused but he wouldn’t let it show. Bucky wasn’t promoted, he left the Red Room; he was working for HYDRA, Pierce’s agency.

Maybe Karpov was trying to deceive him, or maybe he was mistaking Bucky for somebody else.

“Jimmy. James.” Karpov shrugged. “I don’t know. He never gave a last name. I don’t know if that’s his real name either.” He wiped the sweat on his face with a dirty handkerchief. “That’s all I know, I haven’t seen that kid in years. You can fuck off now.”

Steve was going to. He just had one more thing he needed to know.

“What did he have to do here?”

“Why d’ya care so much?” Karpov shot back, he had probably found his balls again a second ago when he thought Steve was leaving.

Steve leaned over the desk and grabbed Karpov by the collar of his shirt. He pulled until Karpov’s fat ass was hovering over the chair.

“I’m not gonna ask again.” Steve’s face was centimeters away from Karpov’s and the man’s breath made his stomach roll.

“He just danced! I swear! Just danced,” Karpov yelled.

Steve let him go and Karpov stumbled back against his chair, almost missing it.

“You’re a dead man,” Karpov said once Steve opened the door.

Steve looked back at him with a smile on his face. “Then you better hope I don’t come back to haunt you.”

He stayed long enough to watch Karpov gulping in response, before turning around, leaving the door open behind him.

\---

Steve hadn’t decided where he was going to paint Bucky today. His head was running a mile a minute with all the things he had learned about Bucky’s past. 

He asked for Bucky to meet him at the same hotel from last time, he was going to decide a place from there. Maybe Bucky had somewhere he particularly wanted to go. They had only three more settings to choose, and then Steve wouldn’t have an excuse to see Bucky anymore.

He would have to ask Bucky what he wanted to do next. It Bucky wanted to keep working for Pierce well, that was his choice. But if he was doing it because he thought he had no other option, Steve would do his damn best to show him he did.

Steve wondered if the guy following him thought he was being inconspicuous with the all black outfit, baseball cap lower on his head and sunglasses. Or perhaps he was going for some kind of reversed psychology where people would overlook the obvious, or something. Either way, the guy was sticking out like a sore thumb.

Curiosity, as always, got the best of Steve and he took a detour in his walk from the subway to the hotel, entering in an ally.  Which he soon realized was a bad idea because, one: it was a dead end, and two: when Steve turned around again he was punched in the stomach.

\---

James had been waiting in the hotel room for almost twenty minutes when the door behind him opened. He turned around with a grin on his face, ready to tease Mr. Perfect for being late.

The smile disappeared when he saw it wasn't Steve at the door.

"Sorry, James. He’s not coming today."

Natasha Romanoff. James had never directly talked to her. He knew she worked Nick Fury, and had heard enough about her from Steve to know they were friends. He realized then, he had never given Steve his number, neither did he asked Steve for his. So Natasha’s presence there might not be a bad thing, perhaps Steve just asked her to send the message because he had the flu or something, it wouldn’t be uncommon.

But the look on Natasha's face brought cold, icy dread to his stomach. "What happened?"

"He's is the hospital,” she explained. “I think someone tried to mug him or something."

"How is he?"

"I don't know yet, but I don't think is too serious. He was the one who called me."

"Not serious?" James asked incredulous. "He's in the hospital!" He knew it wasn’t her fault and he had no right to lash out on her, but James was too scared to think straight. He needed to see Steve; he needed to touch him to prove to himself that Steve was still in one piece.

"The ER, James. Not on his deathbed." She sighed. "I think this probably could have been avoided if Steve had just handed his wallet. He doesn't even carry money around.  But you know how he is; he can't just look the other way."

James caught himself agreeing with her, and then he realized what she had just said.

"How did you know I knew him?"

"He said you went to school together." She raised an eyebrow. "Was that supposed to be a secret?"

James shook his head. "No, I just-" He didn't really know what to say to her. But he couldn't just stay there. He didn't owe her any explanations anyway. "I have to go," he announced, running a nervous hand through his hair.

Natasha actually snorted at him. "That's what I came here to tell you."

James put back his shoes and jacket and headed straight to the door.

"James," Natasha called him as he passed her. James stopped on his track. The expression on her face was a strange one, and he had a feeling she knew more than she let on. "I'll call you as soon as I hear from him again." Don't go after him, the message was clear.

James nodded in understanding before finally leaving.

He took a cab and went straight to Alexander's office when he got to the house. He didn't knock before coming in.

"James, what are you doing here?"

"Please don't hurt him." He was breathing hard. "Please."

"What are you try-"

Usually he was really respectful in waiting for Pierce to finish talking before opening his mouth, but this time James just couldn't wait.

"Please," he begged again. "You know I'm coming with you."

Pierce went from annoyed that James had interrupted him to amused as James spoke.

"Of course you are," he snorted. "What other options do you have?" Any other day the comment would have hurt. But James couldn't afford to think about his pride at the moment. He waited for Pierce to continue. "But I really have no idea what you're talking about."

"Steve. He's in the ER?" James explained.

"Is that so? What happened?"

"He was attacked." _Mugged my ass_ , he was sure Natasha didn't believe that story either.

"And you think I have something to do with it?" James wanted so bad to nod, but he kept himself very still instead. "Well, James. I've been here all day."

James shook his head. “Rumlow,” he explained. Alexander wouldn’t get his hands dirty and even if he did. Steve could have easily defended himself from a sixty-year old man.

“Well, is his day off.” James knew that. It was way he had taken a cab to the hotel, but he still didn’t know if he should believe Pierce. “What he does in his spare time is not my concern.” Alexander sighed heavily. “But if it makes you feel better,” he said as he took his cellphone and quickly dialed a number. “I want you here in ten minutes,” Alexander simply said before ending the call.

Brock was there in five, supporting a very ugly looking black eye and favoring his left side. James planted his feet firmly on the ground, he wanted to gauge Rumlow’s eyes out with his hands, but he swallowed the violent urge down. Steve. He had to think about what was best for Steve. And the best thing for Steve was for Brock not to know how much James cared about him.

“Sir.”

“Do you have any idea how much money I have invested in this deal with SHIELD?”

“Sir?”

James wasn’t sure if that whole thing was a show for him or not, but it was clear Rumlow was as much as in the dark as he was.

“If Rogers can’t do his work I lose money,” Pierce explained as if he was talking to a small child. “Do you want that?”

“No, sir. I—”

Pierce raised his _shut up_ hand and Brock went quiet.

“You may leave now.”

Rumlow left the room glaring at James as if he was a particularly dirty spot under his shoe. And James glared back just as much.

There had been a time when he was scared shitless of Brock Rumlow. But once he understood that, since his whole body was what James was worth, and Brock couldn’t touch him unless they were training, and even then, he couldn’t do anything that would leave a mark, James saw that there was no reason to fear big bad Brock Rumlow.

He was just another asshole, after all. And James had a whole lifetime experience dealing with them.

“You too, James,” Pierce snapped him from his thoughts.

James was still not sure Pierce had nothing to do with Steve’s attack, but he was being dismissed and there was nothing else he could do. He wanted to go after Steve but he had no idea where Steve was. Natasha would tell him what happened. It was safer to keep his distance for now.

He would see Steve later, for the drawings.  And then he would leave and Steve would be safe.

**\---**

Steve had a bruised rib that was making it a bit hard to breathe. That was the only reason he went to the ER. He had been in worse fights.

Thankfully he didn't break any fingers.

While he waited for Nat to come pick him up Steve tried to understand why Pierce’s driver had attacked him.

At first Steve thought that Rumlow had come after him because of Bucky. But there was something more there. Rumlow told him to stop digging. That was a warning.

A warning that came right after Steve’s visit to the Red Room.

Vasily Karpov’s voice telling him that Bucky had been promoted came to Steve’s mind again.

Following a gut feeling he fished his phone from his pocket, forgetting all about time zones as he dialed Peggy’s number.

“Are you at work?” He asked after they greeted each other.

“Yes, darling. What’s happened? You sound distressed.”

Steve summarized the past few days as best as he could and when he was done he asked, “Do you still have those files on Pierce? Could you tell me where his money is?”

Peggy began citing an alphabetical list that was already too long by the time Steve's patience won him over and he blurted. "Is Read Room there?"

Peggy paused in her track. “Hm, let me see... yes. Yes, here it is. Red Room." Steve's blood froze, only to start boiling with rage a second later. Bucky had trusted that man. "What is this place?"

_Pierce saved me._

“Bucky worked there,” Steve explained to her, his voice sounding distant to his own ears.

“Steve.” He looked up to see Natasha watching him. He nodded to acknowledge her presence and turned his attention back to Peggy.

“Thanks, Peg.”

“Are you okay, darling?” She sounded so concerned. Steve hated that he was worrying her.

“I will be, Pegs,” he promised “Once I fix this mess.”

“It doesn’t sound like it’s your mess, Steve.”

Steve didn’t know what to say to that. He felt responsible, because he loved Bucky and he couldn’t sit and watch him suffer, thinking that his only option was to work for a man that had been manipulating him for years.

He thanked Peggy again, saying his goodbyes to her right after. He promised her he would be there to her wedding at the end of the year. Steve had to buy her one hell of a gift. He owed her so much.

“Ready to go?” Nat asked.

Steve winced as he got up and Nat put a hand on his back to help him steady himself.

“Mugger forgot the smartphone, I see.” Nat pointed at pocket where Steve had put his phone.

Steve shrugged, and winced again. “Guess they don’t make ‘em like they use to anymore.”

Natasha shot him a completely unimpressed look. “Cut the crap, Rogers. Are you going to finally tell me what’s so special about James Winter or do I have to torture it out of you?”

Steve suppressed a sigh he knew it would hurt his ribs. “It’s a mess, Nat.” He shook his head, suddenly feeling very tired. “I think Bucky got himself into a big mess.”

\---

Romanoff called James to let him know that Steve was fine but he would be taking a few days off from their sessions, and use that time to work on his paintings.

James was sure Steve had been beside her when she called, but he didn’t dare to ask to speak to him; the more distance James put between himself and Steve the better.

The problem now was that James had too much time in his hands and nothing else to do while he waited for Steve to get better. His brain kept supplying him with images of what he and Steve had done at the hotel.

James wanted nothing more than to touch Steve again, but the thought of hurting him was enough to send a bucket of cold water down his back.

He paced back and forth on his room like a caged animal for almost an hour after Natasha’s phone call. James only stopped when he heard Brock’s voice coming from downstairs.

He took the stairs two at a time and found Rumlow in the kitchen.

“I need some training,” James said to him.

Rumlow scoffed. “It’s my day off.”

“Your day off was cancelled.” Pierce hadn’t say anything but Rumlow knew he had fucked up – or maybe he had done it on purposed, James still wasn’t sure, either way – chances were that Brock wouldn’t want to go to Pierce to check that information.  

“Go punch a dummy,” Rumlow spat back.

 _That’s what I’m trying to do_ , James thought. “Come on, Rumlow,” James provoked. “Did you take it so bad you can’t even handle me right now?”

 Brock snorted. “You want your ass kicked so bad?” Brock raised his hand to the door. “Lead the way.”


	9. Chapter 9

The sound of Brock’s nose breaking against his elbow was music to James’ ears. He would have said it was the best thing he’d ever heard, but that title went to the little gasps James had evoke from Steve when they made love.

Thinking about Steve brought a new wave of rage to James’ heart. He charged against Rumlow without waiting for the man to recover from his last blow.

Steve was hurt because of this scumbag.

Rumlow stumbled back, disorientated and James went after him, striking again.

Steve had been hurt enough to need a hospital.

James brought his right leg up and kicked Rumlow in the abdomen. Rumlow folded in in two, grunting in pain.

Steve had a bruised rib. It could have broken; it could have perforated his already bad lungs.

 James grabbed Rumlow’s head in both hands and brought it down heavily on his own kneecap.

That shit face would have left Steve to die in a dirty ally.

Rumlow sagged down on the mat. James followed him. His fist connected with the side of Brock’s face and Rumlow moaned weakly under him.

In the back of his mind James could see little Steve getting ruffed by a bunch of kids that were way bigger than him.

His fist went up and down again on Rumlow’s face, something cracked under his hand. James didn’t pay attention to it.

Steve had suffered enough from people like Brock Rumlow.

“Mr. Winter! Mr. Winter, please stop! You’re killing him!”

James looked up from Brock’s bloodied face to Renata’s horrified one. She had both hands covering her mouth while her wide eyes shifted from James to Brock and then to James again.

She looked like she was either going to pass out or vomit.

James looked down at his hands, his knuckles had slip open and he had dislocated the pinkie on his left hand. He bit down on his lip to keep himself from screaming while he put it back in its place.

“You should call an ambulance,” James told Renata as he got up. He winced from the few well-placed blows Brock had gotten on him, but overall James was practically intact. Brock knew better than to mark his money maker, and adding that to the fact that Steve had already done some damage on him, really, what had just happened was far from a fair fight.

James was glad Renata stopped him, though. As much as he despised Rumlow he didn’t want someone’s death in his conscience. There were things in life that changed you for good, things you just didn’t come back from. And James was pretty sure killing was one of them.

\---

Three days.

That was how long Steve’s time off lasted. Three fucking days.

If James hadn’t been so desperate to see him he would have told Natasha he would not be coming to the next session when she called to schedule it. He knew very well she wasn’t a secretary, but James had some idea to why she had wanted to tell him herself.

She was doing that for Steve. He was probably there every time she called.

Another hotel.

Steve had either run out of ideas or he simply just didn’t give a fuck about this job anymore.

James gave the address Natasha had texted him to the taxi driver. Rumlow was still in the hospital with a broken, well, everything above the waist. James felt a little bad about it. He sent flowers.

Pierce hadn’t bat an eyelash when he heard about James’ outburst of violence. If James didn’t know any better he would even go out on a limb and say Alexander actually seemed like he approved of it. As if James had passed some sort of test.

Perhaps in a few years he _would_ replace Rumlow for James.

But James didn’t want to think about that now. He still had a few more days with Steve and he intended to enjoy it. If he were a better person he wouldn’t be thinking like that. He wouldn’t lead Steve on. But James was nothing but selfish when it came to Steve. He wanted to have all of him.

“We’re here,” the taxi driver announced and James looked out the window to see a… building? He looked around; they were in a residential area.

“Are you sure?”

“That’s the address you gave me,” the man huffed out, looking as if he were ready to start an argument about it.

Well, James would have argued with him, he was about to, when the front door of the building was opened and Steve walked out from it.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I know,” the driver scoffed. James didn’t pay him any mind. He tossed what was probably a lot more than his fare to the man and hopped off of the car.

“Hey,” Steve called when he saw him.

“This isn’t a hotel,” was the first thing out of his mouth. Steve was fine, alive and breathing without any funny noise, so why did James choose _that_ as a conversation starter?

“Yeah, well.” Steve blushed as he scratched at the back of his neck. “It’s my place actually. I uh, I live upstairs. Nat thought it would be a good idea not to tell you, because of your bodyguard.”

“Don’t worry about Rumlow.” Something in his face when he mentioned the name seemed to have alarmed Steve.

“Buck, are you okay?” Steve carefully placed his hands on James’ shoulders. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” James closed his eyes. Fucking Rumlow. Now Steve was going to think James was some kind of psychopath. “Buck?”

James shook his head. “I hurt _him_ ,” he confessed.

“What?”

James opened his eyes to find Steve looking at him with a confused expression on his face. “He went after you, didn’t he?”

Steve was so fucking predictable James wanted to laugh. He straightened his back, retrieving his arms to his sides as if he were military. “I can handle myself.”

“So can I, Stevie,” James shot back. ”Now, you gonna invite me in or not?”

“We need to talk.” Steve said a second after closing the door to his apartment. It was a small place but it had so much character in it. Five seconds in there and James could already see so many traces of _Steve_. It was him to the core and James loved it.

He was about to answer Steve when something caught his attention and he walked to the desk that was probably Steve’s work place. The paintings were there. Some of them seemed to be just waiting to dry out and some were clearly unfinished. Looking at them made James want to weep.

Steve made him look better than any high definition camera or Photoshop ever had. He made James look alive. Thinking back at it, James _had_ felt alive all those time he pose for Steve.

“Your work is amazing.”

“Had a good model,” Steve said from behind him. “Buck.” James turned to look at him. “I need to tell you something.” 

Steve took a deep breath and all alarms went off on James’ head. Steve was about to say he didn’t want anything to do with James. And while that was clearly the best thing Steve could ever do, it also made James want to scream in despair. He’d though he could at least enjoy these last days.

“Sit down,” Steve said and James obeyed like a trained dog.

“Bucky, I –” Steve began, only to stop to take a drag from his inhaler. He put it back on the coffee table and sat down next to James. “Pierce lied to you, Bucky.”

James was sure his brain just did a three-sixty. What was Steve talking about? James frowned at him and Steve took his hand.

“He owns the Red Room!” Steve blurted out. “All those people working in there? They’ve all been where you are now, and when they couldn’t model anymore…” Steve left the rest unsaid.

“What?” No, Steve was mistaken. Pierce had saved him from that life.

 James had accepted Pierce’s offer to get _away_ from the Red Room.

No. James shook his head. He looked at Steve’s face, searching for some sign that would tell him Steve wasn’t telling the truth. But that was absurd. Steve was a terrible liar, and even then, he would never lie to James.

Steve was telling the truth.

James had spent the last ten years of his life forcing himself to be thankful for Alexander. Because it didn’t matter how harsh Pierce had been to him, he had saved James from something that was much worse. He had taken James out of the Red Room.

And he would put James right back where he’d found him, as soon as he had no more use for him.

James was going to be sick.

He’d been used.

**\---**

With Nat, Sam and Clint helping him – though not before giving him a lecture each, on how Steve shouldn’t go after crime lords (really, Clint?) alone – Steve managed to find more about the Red Room.  

The first thing they discovered was that most of the people over thirty working there had been a model before. That was the place Pierce stashed his employees when he didn’t need them in front of a camera anymore.

The young ones, like the waiter who had spilled the drink on Steve, were just waiting to turn eighteen. Then they would either go to Pierce or they would have to start giving more than just a lap dance to keep their jobs.

It made Steve sick, and by the look on Bucky’s face, he wasn’t the only one.

Bucky was pale as a ghost. He was staring fixatedly at the coffee table, he was breathing hard and Steve was just about to ask him if he was okay when Bucky turned to him. “Where’s your bathroom,” he asked in a hurry, getting up before Steve even answered.

“First door down the hall.” Bucky was gone after Steve uttered the first word.

He followed Bucky to the bathroom and found him hunched over the toilet, emptying his stomach.

Steve flexed his hands by his sides, not knowing what to do. Back when they were kids Bucky had always hated to have people around when he was sick. Steve didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

He stayed where he was until Bucky finally stopped retching and sat down by the toilet with his knees up to his chest as he hugged his legs. Then Steve grabbed a piece of toilet paper and wetted it, offering to Bucky as he sat down next to him.

Bucky wiped his mouth and threw the paper in the toilet.

“He used me,” he finally said in a whisper.

Steve brought a hand up to squeeze one of Bucky’s knees. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know that,” Bucky sighed, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes. “I was so stupid, though.” He squeezed his eyes shut, looking so pained that it made Steve’s heart ache.

Steve wanted to say something to comfort him, but he could see how hard it was for Bucky to be opening up to him right now. Bucky had just discovered the last ten years of his life were a lie. That he was even saying anything at all was already huge, even if Steve didn’t believe that. Bucky wasn’t stupid, he had been a kid on the hands of an adult with ill intentions.

“Should’ve stayed were I was ‘til I turned eighteen,” Bucky continued. He opened his eyes and turned his head to face Steve. “Then I could’ve found a job, and maybe we could’ve found a – a place to share after your mom –” Bucky hesitated, and Steve wasn’t sure if it was because he was afraid of hurting Steve by mentioning his mother, or because he wasn’t sure Steve would have wanted to live with him.

Steve smiled at him reassuringly. “I’d have loved that.”

“Steve,” Bucky drawled. “I don’t ever want to see Pierce again.”

“You don’t have to.”

“What about my contract? If I leave Pierce I won’t even have a place to stay. I don’t have a single thing that’s mine. I don’t even have an ID!” Bucky was hyperventilating again, he seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack and Steve didn’t know what to do. He vaguely noticed he was crying, a slow steam of tears running down his face. Bucky’s eyes, in comparison, were still dry. “I don’t have anything! And I’ve been working so hard, Steve. I swear to you I have.” Bucky was full on screaming now. “The restrictions in my diet –” He let out a hysterical laugh, running a frantic hand through his hair. “Do you have any idea?! The things I had to do to myself! All so that he would keep me around!”

Steve knew. He knew that he wasn’t the real target of Bucky’s rage, but he let him scream on his face because Bucky needed this right now, he needed to let it out, even if he were saying to the wrong person.

“And he was going to throw me back into that hell hole!” Bucky kept on going. “Make me bend over to those fat pigs for a place to live!” Bucky let out a final cry and then he stopped, he stared at Steve with unseen eyes for a moment as his breathing began to even out. “I have nothing, Steve,” he whispered, blinking as if he were seeing Steve for the first time. “I spent ten years walking around in clothes that cost more than this place, and the only thing I have of my own –”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he stumbled to get on his feet. For the first time since he started to talk it looked like he was about to cry.

“I have to get back to Pierce’s,” he told Steve. And it was like a veil being lift out of Steve’s eyes. He had heard Bucky talking about the place where he lived before, but he had never paid attention how Bucky phrase it. He never once called it _home_ or even _my house_. Bucky had been living with no sense of home for years, all because he thought there was nothing else for him in the world.

Maybe that fear was stronger than the realization the Pierce had played him. Steve was suddenly afraid of the reason why Bucky was in such a hurry.

“Bucky, you don’t need to ever see him again, if you don’t want to,” Steve tried to reason, getting up as well. He was getting a little desperate himself. “You can stay here.”

Bucky shook his head. “No, Steve you don’t understand. I have to get my jacket –”

“I’ll lend you one,” Steve interrupted.

“My dad’s jacket,” Bucky explained.  “That’s all I have Steve. That’s my only piece of home.” His voice cracked at the last word and so did Steve’s heart. “My dad’s jacket and the drawing you gave me before I left.”

Steve didn’t trust his own voice not to break so he just nodded. He opened his arms and Bucky fell into them. Steve held him for dear life. Bucky buried his face on the crock of Steve’s neck, and Steve’s ribs protested against the strength with which Bucky was holding him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He would offer Bucky anything, everything he had, to make Bucky feel like he had a place in this world, even if this place was only Steve’s arms.

\---

James had to use all of his power of persuasion to convince Steve of staying behind, but he finally managed after promising for the tenth time that he would come right back to Steve’s place. He only had to grab the jacket and he would be on his way. James didn’t want anything else from Pierce.

He knew Steve well enough to know he wouldn’t resist a chance of confronting Alexander face to face. Steve would attack him and Pierce would press charges. The last thing James wanted was for Steve to get his ass arrested.

James _would_ have no other choice than to sell himself on some place even worse than the Red Room to bail Steve out.

Alexander was in his office when James got there. He could hear his voice through the close door.  The temptation to break the door out of its hinges to storm in and give Pierce some of what he had done to Rumlow, if not worse, was strong.  But James would gain nothing from that.

He was just tired. He wanted to end, one way or the other. He had resigned himself to the fact that he had nothing; it wasn’t so bad now that he had Steve.

Steve would let James stay with him.

If James had tried to break free from Pierce anywhere else he wouldn’t even have money to return to the U.S.  Things weren’t so bad.

James was almost at the front door, his father’s jacket tugged safely inside his satchel, when Renata’s voice made him stop on his tracks.

“Is everything alright, Mr. Winter?” James turned to look at her. She was keeping a good distance between them. James knew why. She was still afraid of him after she caught him bashing Rumlow’s face in. He couldn’t blame her. He’d painted an ugly picture.

But Renata was a good person, though. She had been working in this house since before James’ time with Pierce. And even though she never went out of her way she was always nice to him, she treated him better than Pierce and Brock ever had.

James couldn’t say he would miss her, but he was thankful for Renata.

He tried to smile in a way that would put her at ease. “Yes, yes, everything’s fine. I just forgot something,” he said, giving his bag a little pat. James hesitated, he didn’t want her to send any alarms to Pierce, but he didn’t want to leave without a goodbye. He felt like he owed her that. “I, uh. Thank you, Renata.” James lowered his chin, offering her a charming smile. “It’s been a pleasure.”

He was out before she could answer. Nothing against Renata, but giving the circumstances, James didn’t want to see her ever again.


	10. Chapter 10

They had had a terrible first night. Bucky barely slept and when he did, it wasn’t long before a nightmare woke him up. Steve felt useless faced with his suffering. It would be easier if Bucky’s problems were physical, if Steve could just patch him up and kiss him better. But Steve was so out of his depth here. Bucky’s distress came from the realization of everything that had been done to him. And Steve didn’t know what to do to make him better.

When morning came Steve finally admitted he couldn’t do this alone and called Sam.

Bucky was wary of him at first, but after almost an hour of Sam just saying soothing things to him, Bucky finally caved in and locked himself with Sam in Steve’s room. It was Sam’s suggestion that Steve stayed out of it, but he only obliged because Bucky himself said he would prefer talking to Sam alone.

And while part of Steve wanted nothing more than to hold his hands, he had to admit it was good that Bucky didn’t just cling to him. He had to know that he could be independent; Bucky could always count on Steve but he should know that he was capable of taking care of himself.

Sam had left the room alone, hours later.

“He’s going to be fine,” Sam had reassured him, looking drained from the long session. Steve’s curiosity almost made him ask what they had talked about. But that would have been unethical for Sam and just plain wrong for Bucky. Steve was going to respect his privacy, whatever Bucky wanted him to know he would tell Steve himself. “And he definitely needs therapy,” Sam added.

“Thank you, Sam. You have no idea,” Steve said. And then he remembered that even though Sam was his friend, this was also his job. “Look, I’ll pay for the session.”

Sam shook his head. “I talked to James. He can start paying once he gets a job.”

“But until then,” Steve insisted.

“Until then he’ll get pro-bono.”

And that was the end of it. Sam left promising he would ask some favors and find out what was James Buchanan Barnes’ situation in the system.

All the while Steve tried to bring some normality to their lives. He still had the paintings to finish. He worked on them while Bucky sat on corners and barely said a word. He wasn’t eating very well either, but Sam had told Steve not to comment on it when Steve asked him what to do.

Bucky was transitioning from a life of being told what to do to a place where all of his choices were his own, Sam had explained. Bucky needed time, he needed to feel loved but he also needed space. It was very important Steve remembered that.

“I have to take these to Nick, wanna come?” Steve said when he finally had the ten paintings – he had recreated some from memories of the day in the beach – three days later.

Bucky looked up from the book he was so clearly not reading. He stared at Steve for a few seconds before finally nodding.

That was how they found themselves all together in Nick Fury’s office; Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Clint and another one of Fury’s big shots, Maria Hill.

Nick had looked like he was about to have a coronary when he saw Bucky with Steve in the front of his office. He was about to repeat yet again about Pierce’s phone calls and threats of calling the police on them for kidnapping when Natasha came to their rescue.

“Come on, Nick. You know this makes sense,” she had said after they told Fury about Bucky. It had been Bucky’s choice but it was Nat and Steve that did the talking.  Nat had told them they needed Nick on their side and Bucky seemed to trust her. “He would never go to the police. Not when he knows exactly what’ll happen the moment James’ face is put through a search database.”

Missing child, Steve’s brain had supplied him.

 “But wouldn’t they be recognized?” Fury asked once they were inside his office, joined by Clint and Maria.

Nat had just done her best summarizing for Nick and Hill what was the Red Room.

She shook her head. “Not likely. For one thing, I doubt the crowd at the Red Room follows the fashion scene. And second,” she looked at Bucky with something close to pity in her eyes, “From what we discovered, people that work for Pierce tend to go through so many plastic surgeries they are almost unrecognizable by the end of their careers.”

Steve swallowed hard. Ten years in and Bucky had already gone through one unnecessary procedure. God only knew what else Pierce would have forced him to do.

“Son of a bitch!” Fury’s loud curse brought all eyes to him. He ignored them and started typing furiously on his computer. “I knew I’d seen that face before.”

“Who?” Steve asked.

“Pierce’s bodyguard,” Nick answered without looking from the screen.

“Brock Rumlow,” Bucky supplied his name, his voice so quiet it was almost as if he were afraid they would start paying attention to him.

“Yeah, but,” Fury began, turning the screen to them. “Back in the 90’s, he was known as Brian Cross.”

On the screen Google Images was open; there were several photos of a guy who couldn’t be over twenty. It could have been Rumlow but Steve wasn’t sure.

“Brock was Pierce’s last model before me,” Bucky told them.

“You knew that?” Clint asked, disbelief written all over his face. “And you didn’t think that was weird. That his ex-model was his fucking driver!”

“Hey, back off,” Steve warned; the instinct to protect Bucky kicking in like muscle memory.  “He was just kid.”

“No, Steve. He’s right. I should’ve known better.”

“Bucky, that man used you. That’s not your fault.”

“We gotta make him pay, man,” Clint said, a lot calmer. “You could sue him,” he said to Bucky.

“Bucky signed a contract,” Steve explained.

“Wasn’t he a minor?” Hill asked.

“I don’t really remember,” Bucky answered for himself. “The first time I saw Pierce it was a week before my birthday.” He shook his head. “Between the whole process and getting out of the country, I only remember that I signed the contract on the plane. I was eighteen the day I did my first photoshoot in Moscow.” He sighed as if he had already resigned to his fate.

“You gonna need a lawyer. I know someone." Natasha said, and then she turned to Clint. "He's an ex."

"Matt?" Clint asked. "I love Matt,” he told the rest of them with a grin. He turned to Steve all excited. "Can you believe he boxes?"

Well, since boxing wasn’t all that uncommon, Clint would have to excuse Steve's lack of enthusiasm. "Oh, he must be really something," he deadpanned.

"He is,” He nodded eagerly, completely ignoring Steve’s sarcasm. “He _is_ something. He is blind."

“Actually, I have a better idea,” Natasha cut through her husband’s rambling, though _now_ Steve would admit he was impressed. “But it’s very extreme,” she said that looking at Steve, and then turned to Fury. “We publish James’ story along with Steve’s drawings on the next issue.”

Nick cocked his head to the side, shaking it slowly. “That’s not what SHIELD does. That’s not our kind of work.”

“What’s your work then, Nick?” Steve intervened. He still wasn’t sure about Natasha’s idea, but to see Fury just turn a blind eye to the matter because _it wasn’t his business_ infuriated Steve. “You don’t even know where these people on your pages come from, do you?”

“If you’re trying to guilt trip me, Rogers, it ain’t gonna work.”

Steve snorted loudly. “I’m not guilt tripping you, your conscience is. Who knows how many of these models are even doing this of their own free will! Or if they’re being forced to do things they don’t want.” He glanced briefly at Bucky. “Just so they can keep their jobs.”

“If we do this,” Maria Hill said, looking from Steve to Fury. “It might give them the courage to come forward.”

Fury sighed. “Look, a law suit –”

“It’s going to take years,” Natasha interrupted. “And even then, Pierce is too influential.”

“Yes, in _fashion!”_

“Money is influential anywhere, Nick.”

”This is his word,” Nick said, pointing at Bucky, “against Pierce’s. This is defamation. He’s going to ask for proof I’m sure your friend doesn’t have, and then he’s going to sue u—”

“I’ll bear the consequences,” Bucky whispered, his voice was so small it was a wonder they heard it behind Fury’s.

Steve suddenly felt very ashamed. They were discussing Bucky’s life right in front of him. Making decisions without even bothering to consult his wishes. They were acting just like Alexander Pierce.

“Bucky –” he began, but Bucky shook his head and he shut his mouth.

“I wanna do it,” Bucky said and this time his voice was firm with determination. “It’s my life. The only thing I get to lose is my image.” He shook his head, biting hard on his lower lip. Steve could see how bad he was struggling to keep himself from crying; to keep himself from breaking in front of them.  “That hasn’t really been mine in a long time.”

Fury exhaled hard, placing both his hands flat on the table, he leaned forward to announce his decision. “Very well, then, Mr. Winter. Tell us your story.”

Bucky shook his head again. “Barnes,” he corrected. “My name is James Barnes.”

\---

Alexander Pierce was found dead in his office the day after SHIELD’s fiftieth issue, James Buchanan Barnes: The Winter Soldier was out. The police’s statements were going with suicide. James wasn’t so sure.

The Red Room alone was full of people who could have faked a convincing suicide, and now James knew, those people probably had enough motives to want Pierce dead.

James himself would have been in the list of suspects if it weren’t for his very strong alibi. The time of Pierce’s death matched the same time he’d been at the police station with Steve, and his new lawyer, Matt Murdock, trying to see if he could bring James Barnes back to life.

Thankfully, Matt had an A plus team working with him, and James’ transition back to his old self was easy; at least the bureaucratic one.

Mentally though, that was another story. Most of the time James felt like this was just a dream, he would wake up in a plane to god knows where, and Pierce would still be controlling his life.

James looked at Steve and he couldn’t believe he was really there. They were living together. It was so surreal.  And Steve, well, he just wanted to help, James knew that; but suddenly Steve was _everywhere_ – _Well, you_ are _living in his house_ , part of James thought – and he couldn’t breathe.

Steve spent most of his time looking at James with sorrowful eyes, waiting for him to breakdown. And really, James didn’t even have a traumatic experience, he was feeling like shit, yeah, but he wasn’t about to give up on life or anything. 

James was relearning that Steven Grant Rogers was a big drama queen.

He decided to talk to Sam about it. Sam was great. James was starting to think of him as a friend, and hoped that Sam saw him as more than just a client.  On that note, it felt extremely good when Murdock and Nelson proved that some of Pierce’s frozen assets actually belong to James.  

He almost fell off his chair the first time he checked his new – first – bank account. He had made a shit ton of money over the years.

James first transaction was to pay Sam his dues.  Turned out the sessions weren’t as expensive as he had thought. James contemplated giving Sam some sort of Christmas bonus. Did people do that to their therapists?

“Steve’s driving me insane,” James said the moment Sam opened the door of his office. He bypassed Sam and sat down heavily on the chaise.

“Good morning to you too, Barnes,” Sam greeted him with a great deal of sarcasm as he closed the door. It still made something go funny on James’ stomach, to hear people address him by that last name. It made things feel more real. He had talked to Sam about it and he knew every time Sam addressed him like that it was on purpose. “What’s the matter with Steve?”

“He’s always,” James did two claws with his hands to express his frustration, “ _there._ ” He knew he wasn’t expressing himself very well, but he still had trouble getting things out.  He hoped Sam understood.

Sam chuckled. “You do realize _there_ is his apartment, and that he does work from home, right?” he asked, good humored.

James cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?” he asked, frowning at Sam.

“What do _you_ mean?”

Ugh. Sam could be as much a pain in the ass as Steve sometimes.

James huffed a frustrated sigh. “He keeps staring at me with those fucking big sad eyes. I feel like I just kicked his puppy. Repeatedly.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, closing his eyes. “I need some space.”

“Then leave.” James opened his eyes with a start. “You are in _his_ apartment, Steve will always be there,” Sam explained. “I was actually going to talk to you about that.”

“You want me to go away?” James internally winced when Sam said _his apartment._ James was free from Pierce’s shackles, he even had his money, but he still didn’t have a home. He’d thought he could have that with Steve. Apparently, he was wrong.

“I think you need to learn how to walk with your own two legs. You need to have something that’s yours. Your home.” James opened his mouth, not really sure of what he was going to say, but Sam stopped him before he could think of anything. “I know you like Steve, I know how he feels about you too, but right now that’s not helping either of you. My advice, as your therapist _and_ friend, you have to build your own life. And that cannot revolve around anyone, not even Steve.

You should have your place, your things, your job.” Sam stopped; he raised a questioning eyebrow at James. “What are you doing these days? You’ve been lurking around at Steve’s, haven’t you?” James’ felt his cheeks warm with embarrassment. “I’m not saying you don’t deserve some off time,” Sam put him at ease. “Hell, if you want to go find another job I, personally, think it’d be a wonderful idea. Whatever you decided though, one thing is certain, doesn’t matter if you got money to retire right now, you need to be active. Otherwise, you _will_ go insane. You need to do something with your time, something to make you feel productive.”

“Do I have to work for someone?” The idea of having to listen to more people ordering him around was definitely not appealing.

“Well, no. Not really. You could be self-employed. You can even start something yourself, you got money.”

Steve had told James about the kid waiter he had met at the Red Room, and how terrified of losing his job the boy was. James had been in the exact same situation. There were so many kids with that story out there.

James didn’t want to model anymore; he was done being a dressing doll. He didn’t really know how to do anything else either. But maybe, maybe he could hire people.

An idea began to take shape in his mind.

“Sam, I think I’m gonna need your help.”

\---

Winter’s Children.

When Steve suggested the name Bucky had hummed and went back to the several Excel files he had opened on his laptop. Steve thought Bucky hadn’t even heard him. He only found out that that _was_ the name of Bucky’s Foundation the day it officially started.

Money – a lot of it apparently – did make things go faster. It was only six months between the day Bucky told him about his idea and the night he was cutting the red ribbon at the front door.

Steve had jumped right in when he heard Bucky’s plan. It was a great idea and the first person he went to talk to once they had everything in place was Peter Parker, the kid from the Red Room. Turned out Peter was an orphan, struggling to make ends meet to feed and pay for the medicine of his old aunt.

Peter was now manager of Winter’s Children. Bucky was paying for his studies and Peter was in the making of becoming a certified counselor.

Bucky’s foundation offered help and support for kids who had nowhere else to turn to. His interview for SHIELD helped a lot with publicity and donations. Steve’s painting now covered the wall of the Winter’s Children head office. He was thinking about holding an auction for some of them, to help raise more money, but he had to talk to Bucky first.

Amidst the whole process, Bucky moved to his own place. Steve would be lying if he said it didn’t bother him. He had spent so many years away from Bucky, he didn’t want to be apart from him anymore. But he knew he was suffocating Bucky more than he was helping.

He helped Bucky settle in his new place. They went shopping for furniture and wall paper, and the noose around Steve’s heart was slowly untightening itself as he saw how good Bucky felt every time he made a decision about his own life.

Steve was really proud of him.

Bucky might not see it that way but he did go through a huge trauma with everything Pierce and Brock Rumlow did to him. Steve was more than happy that those two wouldn’t be a part of Bucky’s life ever again. Pierce was dead, and Rumlow, as it turned out, had more than just marketing reasons to change his name.

He had been arrested the day he left the hospital. Some morbid curiosity led Steve to go talk to him in jail.

He didn’t discover anything useful. Bucky had told him about the beating, but apparently, Rumlow didn't feel like that wasn’t something he had to share with the police.

 “What? You jealous that Pierce traded you for him?” Steve had asked.

Rumlow snorted. “Fuck that, the best part of working for Pierce happens when he doesn’t need you in front of a camera anymore, and you don’t need to puke your guts out to make him happy anymore.” He said with a sneer.

Steve found himself feeling sorry for Brock Rumlow.

It made him even gladder for Bucky’s idea. Perhaps if Brock had had a better support system he wouldn’t have turned out like that. What Bucky was doing could prevent a lot of kids from turning out like that.

“The tie is not goona knot itself, Rogers.” Bucky’s voice brought him back to the present. Steve blinked at his own reflection in the mirror.

When Bucky moved out to his own apartment Steve had thought that what happened in the hotel had been a one-time thing, and Bucky wouldn’t actually want anything more.

The day Bucky invited him to have dinner at his new place Steve found out he’d been wrong.

Bucky made a move on him before they even opened the wine Steve had brought. And Steve only remembered the dinner after they had made the dining room – Bucky’s place was huge – and the living room unfit for eating.

They ended up eating in the kitchen, before finally making use of Bucky’s fit for a giant bed.

Bucky swatted Steve’s hands away from the bow tie and, settling himself right behind Steve, used his expert fingers to make a perfect bow.

“There,” he said, planting a kiss on Steve’s right cheek before running his hands down Steve's arms and giving a step back.

“Thanks, Buck.” Steve turned to look at him. He looked absolutely stunning in the all black three-piece suit. Steve wanted to take it all out, slowly.

He stepped into Bucky’s personal space and hooked a hand behind his neck to push Bucky against him.

Steve could spend hours kissing Bucky until he passed out from lack of oxygen, but just as his body was starting to get a little too interested in what was happening Bucky pulled away.

“Come on,” Bucky urged him, taking a step back. He ran his hands down Steve’s front to smooth it.  Then he grabbed one of Steve’s hands, lacing their fingers together, he brought their hands up to kiss the back of Steve’s. “If Carter doesn’t see you in your place when she walks down that aisle, she’s going to send you and your balls back to the States on different flights.”

Steve snorted. He took a step forward and nudged Bucky’s shoulder with his own. “You can’t fool me, Barnes. I know you’re just in a hurry to see if you can get the bouquet.” Steve said that with a smirk but he couldn’t deny his heart was beating faster at the thought.

Bucky winked at him. “Maybe I am, Rogers. Maybe I am.”

When Steve was fourteen he was sure he was going to spend the rest of his life with Bucky. Maybe he was right.  


	11. Chapter 11

This fic has a playlist that you can **[listen here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL1tz85Mdn3rKv4rm6F9FTFmWx6Fh26L61).**

 

 **Oceans - Seafret**  
It feels like there's oceans  
Between me and you once again  
We hide our emotions  
Under the surface and tryin' to pretend  
But it feels like there's oceans   
Between you and me

 **Be there – Seafret**  
I'll be there when you need me most  
I'll be there if you're ever alone  
Together, we can grow old.  
I can't leave you  
I can't leave you,  
No.

 **I found – Amber Run**  
And I've moved further than I thought I could  
But I missed you more than I thought I would  
And I'll use you as a warning sign  
That if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind

 **Everybody is watching me – The Neighborhood**  
The more I want in, the more I want in  
The less I know, the less I know  
But I'm forgotten, I'm forgotten  
I'll be alone, I'll be alone, I'll be alone  
With everybody watching me

 **Photograph – Ed Sheeran**  
We keep this love in a photograph  
We made these memories for ourselves  
Where our eyes are never closing  
Hearts are never broken  
Times forever frozen still

 **Home – Gabrielle Aplin**  
'Cause they say home is where your heart is set in stone  
Is where you go when you're alone  
Is where you go to rest your bones  
It's not just where you lay your head  
It's not just where you make your bed  
As long as we're together, does it matter where we go?  
Home home home home home home home home

 **Tell me if you wanna go home – Keira Knightly**  
Tell me if you wanna go home  
Cause I'm just not sure  
Tell me if I'm back on my own  
How to get back there  
Giving back a heart that's on loan  
And I just can't bear  
Tell me if you wanna go home  
If you're not there

 **The Script – Superheroes**  
All his life he's been told  
He'll be nothing when he's old  
All the kicks and all the blows  
He won't ever let it show  
'Cause he's stronger than you know  
A heart of steel starts to grow

 


End file.
